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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
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Canadian  Inrtitute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  canadien  de  microreproductions  historiques 


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Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


Thee 
tothi 


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sont  indiquds  ci-dessous. 


Thei 
possi 
of  th 
fllmii 


□    Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 

□    Covers  damaged/ 
Couverture  endommag^e 

□    Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  resta^rde  et/ou  pelliculde 


D 
D 
D 
D 
D 

n 


n 


Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  gdographiques  en  couleur 


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obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


Origi 

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sion, 

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first 

sion, 

or  nil 


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shall 
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Map: 
diffe 
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right 
requ 
math 


D 


Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppldmentaires; 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

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10X  14X  18X  22X 


26X 


30X 


A 


12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


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or  illustrated  impression. 


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empreinte. 


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shall  contain  the  symbol  -^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 

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different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  marv  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparattra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE  ",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  §tre 
film6s  6  des  taux  de  r6duction  diffdrents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clich6,  il  est  f  ilm6  6  partir 
de  Tangle  sup6rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  6  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas.  en  pr^nant  le  nombre 
d'images  ndcessaire.  Los  uiagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m6thode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

ELEMENTS 


OF  THK 


ART  OF  RHETORIC: 


ADAPTED   FOR   USB 


COLLEGES    AND    ACADEMIES, 

▲KS  FOB 

PRIVATE    STUDY. 


This  isi 
Which  doth  mend  nature,  chqpgftil  rathcRjJbnt 
The  art  itself  Is  nature.  'I  ^ 
Cl. 

r-c-j 

BY  IIEx\RY  i;:DAY,  , 

raorasaoR  or  rhetoric  ix  western-  u^smve  coixEGBT^aiOt 


FOURTH    EDITION. 


KEW    YOKK: 
PUBLISHED   BY  A.   S.  BARNES  &   Co., 
Ill  &  113   WILLIAM   ST.,  cor.  JOHN. 

1867. 


Entered  iwftordlti?  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1850, 
by  Henry  N.  Day,  in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of 

the  District  of  Obia 


PREFACE 


The  particulars,  in  which  the  Treatise  on  Rhetoric  now 
offered  to  the  public  differs  from  other  works  on  the  same 
subject  in  the  English  language,  are  chiefly  the  following: 

First  Invention  is  treated  as  a  distinct  and  primary  de- 
partment of  the  art  of  Rhetoric.     From  most  English  trea- 
tises  this  department  has  been  entirely  excluded;  and  rae- 
toric  has  been  generally  regarded  as  confined  almost  exclu- 
sively to  style.    If  we  leave  out  of  view  some  older  and 
nearly  forgotten  works  that  were  modeled  on  the  pattern  of 
the  Grecian  and  Roman  rhetoricians.  Dr.  Whately's  work 
furnishes,  perhaps,  the  only  exception  to  this  general  remark. 
The  work  of  Dr.  Whately,  however,  embraces  but  a  small 
portion   of  what  properly  belongs  to  rhetorical  invention. 
The  attention  of  learners  has  thus  been  turned  chiefly  or 
solely  upon  style.      The  consequence  has  been,  as  might 
naturally  be  expected  where  manner  is  the  chief  object  of 
reoard,  that  exercises  in  composition  have  been  exceedmgly 
repulsive  and  profitless  drudgeries.     On  the  other  hand,  ex- 
perience confirms  most  f  Jly  what  was  beforehand  to  be  con- 
fideutlv  counted  on,  that  if  the  mind  be  turned  mainly  on 
the  matter,— the  thought  to  be  presented  &nd  the  design  oi 
presenting  it,  the  exercise  of  composition  becomes  a  most 
interesting,  attractive  and  profitable  exercise.     The  mind. 


IV 


PREFACE. 


having  thought  to  express,  and  being  animated  by  a  per- 
ceived object  in  expressing  it,  when  furnished  with  the 
guiding  principles  in  such  expression,  acts  intelligently, 
easily,  and  with  satisfaction  to  itself.  Such  exercise  is,  in- 
deed, one  of  the  most  pleasing  employments  of  mind.  Style, 
itself,  then  becomes  a  matter  of  interest;  for  the  desire  is  a 
natural  one  to  see  the  thought  so  expressed  as  to  accomplish 
the  object  in  expressing  it.  A  foundation  is  thus  furn-ished 
for  criticism;  its  principles  and  the  application  of  them 
become  intelligible,  and  therefore  interesting  even  to  the 
inexperienced  writer.  The  ancients  regarded  invention  as 
the  soul  of  the  art  of  rhetoric;  and  the  success  of  their  rhe- 
torical training  is  to  be  attributed  mainly  to  the  tact  that 
their  attention  was  chiefly  directed  to  this  department  of  the 
art.  The  disestcem  into  which  instruction  in  rhetoric  has 
fallen  in  modern  times,  is,  perhaps,  justly  due  to  the  exclu- 
sion of  invention  from  our  rhetorical  text-books. 

Secondly,  the  endeavor  has  been  made,  with  what  success 
the  public  will  decide,  to  reduce  to  a  more  exact  system  the 
principles  of  rhetoric,  in  the  determination  of  the  proper  pro- 
vince of  rhetoric,  and  of  its  departments,  and^  also,  in  the 
development  of  the  principles  involved  in  both  divisions  of 
the  art.  So  far  as  was  deemed  compatible  with  the  charac- 
ter of  a  practical  treatise, — of  an  art  as  distinguished  from 
a  science, — the  grounds  have  been  indicated  for  the  devel- 
opment of  the  art  at  each  successive  stage.  The  divisions, 
thus,  are  exhibited  as  given  necessarily  on  rational  grounds. 
It  is  a  great  satisfaction  to  the  mind  of  a  learner  to  be  able 
to  see  that  the  path  over  which  he  is  conducted  is  not  an  arbi- 
trary one,  but  is  determined  by  the  very  nature  of  the  sub- 
ject. Nothing  is  lost,  while  much  is  gained,  by  a  conform 
ity  to  strict  philosophical  principles  in  the  construction  oi 
text-books  for  the  use  even  of  immature  minds. 


PR,   FAC'i:. 


The  author  flatters  himself  that  the  view  presented  of  the 
province  oi'  Rhetoric,  while  it  will  appear  in  its  own  light 
to  be  philosophically  correct,  avoids  the  confusion  and  difFx- 
culties,  not  to  say  the  contradictions,  that  have  been  experi- 
enced in  ol)  er  s\  stems  The  province  of  Rhetoric,  as  the 
art  of  oratoiy,  is  well  defined  and  is  philu.suphically  dislin- 
yuisjuible  from  Logic,  (^ranunar.  Aesthetics,  Poetry,  and 
Elocution.  liicludiag,  as  it  mut-'l  if  li.  be  a  proper  art,  both 
the  supply  of  thought  and  of  language,  it  is  saved  from 
beiijg  degraded  to  a  mere  negative,  critical  system; — it  be- 
comes a  positively  invigorating  and  developing  art,  most 
admirably  fitted  to  call  forth  and  di;u;ipline  the  mental 
powers  in  a  course  of  rationally  prescribed  and  attractive 
exercises.  Covering  the  entire  held  of  pure  discc/urse  as  nd- 
dress  to  another  miad,  it  is  redeemed  from  the  shackles  a  ad 
embarrassments  of  Ihat  view  v\  hich  confines  it  to  n.ere  argu- 
mentative composition,  ov  the  art  of  producing  Belief.  This 
view  of  Rhetoric,  in  which  Dr.  Whately  is  followed  by  the 
writer  of  the  article  in  the  Encyclopaedia  Britannica,  conr 
sistently  carried  out,  excludes  all  Explanatory  Discourse  as 
well  as  all  Persuasion.  The  allusion  to  the  one,  and  the 
fuller  consideration  of  the  other,  in  Dr.  Whately's  Rhetoric, 
are  justified  by  the  author  on  grounds  that  are  not  tenable 
for  a  moment.  Argumentative  Discourse,  the  art  of  pro- 
ducing belief,  can  not,  without  violence  to  the  well  estab- 
lished import  of  language,  include  that  discourse,  the  pri- 
mary and  controlling  design  of  which  is  to  inform  or  instruct, 
or  that,  the  end  of  which  is  to  persuade.  Instruction  and 
conviction  are  as  widely  distinguished  as  perception  and 
Delief  J  and  it  must  appear  on  a  very  slight  investigation  of 
the  subject  that  "generally  speaking  the  same  rules  will^  not 
''  be  serviceable  for  attaining  each  of  these  objects."  Nar- 
ration and  argumentation  have  little  in  common,  so  far  as 


▼I 


PREFACE. 


the  conduct  of  the  thought  is  concerned.  There  is  very  little, 
accordingly,  in  Dr.Whately's  treatise,  except  under  tiie  head 
of  Style,  which  has  any  application  to  Explanatory  Discourse, 
as  History  or  Description.  And  Persuasion,  although  it 
may  make  use  of  Argumentation,  docs  not  always  recjuire 
its  help,  and  seeks  entirely  a  ditferent  end  by  an  entirely 
diifereut  process. 

The  distribution  of  the  diflerent  forms  of  discussion,  and 
of  the  dill'erent  specific  processes  in  each,  will  enable  the 
learner  not  only  to  obtain  a  more  thorough  knowledge  of 
the  art  of  constructing  discourse  than  he  could  from  more 
general  views,  but  will  greatly  I'acilitate  the  practical  appli- 
cation of  rhetorical  principles  to  actual  composition.     In  his 
exercises,  he  will  know  precisely  what  to  do;  while  the  sup- 
ply of  the   matter  of  the   composition,  by  being    his   own 
woik,  will  give  to  the  whole  elVort  an  interest  and  pleasure 
which  are  entirely  foreign  from  exercises  in  composition  as 
usually  directed.     It  is  the  utter  ignorance  of  what  he  is  to 
do  when  set  to  the  task  of  writing  a  composition,  as   it  is 
called,  which  makes  the  task  so  repulsive.     Suppose,  for 
illustration,  that  "the  French  Revolution  of  1848  "  be  given 
out  as  the  theme  of  a  composition.     No  intimation  bein«»- 
given  in  regard  to  the  object  in  the  discussion  of  the  theme,  the 
mind  of  the  pupil  is  left  without  an  aim,  and  it  cannot  work. 
It  will  be  the  merest  matter  of  chance  whether  he  propose  to 
himself  any  aim  at  all  in  the  discussion,  or  whether  he  do 
not  blindly  and  confusedly  bring  together  manifold  and  in- 
congruous aims,  and  his  effort,  pursued  thus  irrationally, 
give  him  only  disgust  from  beginning  to  end.     But  let  him 
understand  that  it  is  as  necessary  to  settle  definitely  the 
object  as  the  subject  of  his  composition;  to  determine  that 
he  is  to  write  a  narrative  of  the  events  of  that  Revolution, 
w  of  its  causes  or  its  effects;  or  a  description  of  its  exciting 


ft 


PREFACE. 


▼II 


M 


scenes  J  or  argue  its  necest.ity  or  its  righteousness  or  its  expe* 
diency ;  or  exhibit  it  us  a  political  movement  lilted  to  awaken 
emotions  of  admiration  or  of  fear  and  horror;  or  as  a  motive 
to  others  to  seek  to  gain  their  liberties  or  to  guard  against 
revolutionary  outbreaks,  one  or  another  of  these  objects 
and  but  one,  and  he  is  at  once  prepared  to  proceed  ration- 
ally in  his  work.  He  knows  what  matter  he  needs  to  col- 
lect and  in  what  form.  He  knows  when  to  begin,  how 
to  proceed,  and  where  to  end.  The  procedure  is  now  all 
plain,  simple,  and  satisfactory.  He  can  see  now  at  what 
points  his  effort  is  successful  and  at  what  it  is  delicient.  He  * 
can  receive  criticism  and  profit  by  it. 

A  new  analysis  is  given  in  the  work  of  the  properties  of 
style,  which,  it  is  hoped,  will  aid  the  student  in  ascertain- 
ing what  properties  should  be  secured   to  expression  in  rhe- 
toric and  what    faults    should    be    avoided,  as  well    as  in 
understanding  on  what  grounds  they  are  classed,  as  proper- 
ties of  style.     Both  in  the  designation,  and  in  the  enumera- 
tion and  description  of  the  oral  properties,  there   will  be 
observed    a  departure    from  former    systems    which,  it   is 
hoped,  will  commend  itself  to  every  candid  and  thorough 
investigator.     It  will  be  seen  that  these  properties  can  be 
classed  together  and  be  subdivided  on  the  strictest  philoso- 
phical principles,   and   that,  consequently,  they  may    and 
should  be  carefully  distinguished  specifically  from  one  an- 
other and  generically  from  the   other  classes  of  properties. 
The  attempt  has  been  made,  also,  to  reduce  to  some  order 
and  system  the  "  Figures  of  speech  "  so  called. 

Thirdly,  the  treatise  has  been  prepared  with  a  reference  to 
practical  instruction  in  rhetoric;  as  an  art,  and  not  merely 
as  a  science.  The  principles  have  been  presented  with  a  view 
to  their  application  in  suitable  exercises.  It  is  accordingly 
recommended    in   the    use  of  the  work  in  instruction,  th»* 


^ 


fill 


rUL    \(F.. 


'II : 


exercises  he  presciibtd  lo  ihe  pu|iil  uhich  shall  involve  the 
•ysteiiiutic  ujjpiicuui.u  u(  the  principles.     A  list  of  thcuiea 
has  been  added  in  aa  Jipjiendix,  dcsi-^ned  for  exercise  on  the 
principles  ol'  iavenliun  wliich   applj.    to   diHerent  kinds  of 
literary  composition.     It  will  be  lound  iiselul  .to  prescribe 
themes  of  the  dille.ent  classes  separately,  and  subject  tiie 
composition   when  prepared   to   the   test  ol"   the  princijdea 
which  apply  to  it.     I'hiis,   the   exercises  in   narrative   dis- 
course may  be  continued    till    the   laws  of   such  discourse 
shall  become  practically  fan'.iliar.     The  only  exercises,  per- 
haps, which  the  study  of  style  readily  admits,  are  those  of 
correcting  faults  or  of  ascertaining  the  particular  excellencies 
of  a  given  discourse.     Particularly,  will  it  be  found  to  bo  a 
profitable  exercise  to  the  learner  to  detect  and  correct,  as  far 
as  it  may  be,  the  faults  in  the  passages  selected  for  exenipli- 
fication  of  the  princi])les.     The  fi)rm  of  the  work,  it  will  be 
observed,  contemplates  a   thorough  sfudi/ing  of   its  prin- 
ciples.    It  is  not  a  work  from  which  a  mere  cursory  perusal 
will  derive  much  benefit  or  satisfaction. 

It  is  proper  to  add  here  that  the  original  design  of  pre- 
paring the  work,  as  well  as  the  plan  of  it,  have  been  sug- 
gested  in  the  eiperience  of  the  author  as  an  instructor  in 
rhetoric.  The  endeavor  to  teach  the  art  under  the  guidance 
of  our  common  treatises  on  rhetoric,  u  ith  a  predominant 
view  to  style  or  expression,  proved  so  unsatisfactory  as  to 
put  upon  a  diligent  search  after  a  better  meth(;d.'  That 
method  was  found  in  the  study  of  the  ancient  rhetoricians 
and  particularly  in  observation  on  Ihe  success  of  exercises 
in  Homiletics  which  were  mainly  exercises  in  invention;  at 
all  eveats  it  was  found,  in  actual  experience,  that  the  substi- 
tution of  exeicisjs  in  rhet(,rical  invention,- exercises  in 
which  the  thfOic,  the  object,  a^d  li.e  oujdini.  principles^./ 
the  6omj)osiuou  were  pit.cribed,-in  uiace  oi  )nere  exercises 


PRFFACK 


IX 


in  stylo  without  well  delincd  object  or  known  law  of  devel- 
oping the  tiiought,  converted  what  was  a  moat  repulsive  and 
unprofitable  drudgery  into  an  attractive  and  most  beneficial 
intellectual  elVort. 

Li  tiie  actJial  construction  of  the  work,  free  use  has  been 
made  of  the  popidar  works  on  Rhetoric  in  the  English  lan- 
guage, particularly  for  purposes  o*'  cxeinplilication  and  illus* 
traiion.  Valuable  suggestions  have,  also,  been  derived  from 
diverse  German  writers,  as  Schott,  Hoffmann,  Richter, 
Ejichenburg,  Theremin,  Becker  and  others. 


CONTENTS 


INTRODUCTION. 

{  1.  Object  of  the  Art  of  Rhetoric, 

CHAPTER  I. 

Province  of  Rhetoeio. 

2.  Founded  on  the  Faculty  of  Discourse,        -  " 

8-9.  Relations  to  Ethics,  Science  of  the  Emotions,  Aesthet- 
ics, Logic,  Grammar,  Elocution  and  Poetry, 

CHAPTER  II. 
Rhktoric  a  developinq  Abt. 

10,  11.  Fact  and  Degree,        -  -  -  - 

12-19.  Means,      ------ 

CHAPTER  III. 
Rhetobio  an  Aesthetic  Aet. 

20.  Ground,  ..---- 

21.  Elements  of  Beauty,  .  -  -  - 

22.  Absolute  Beauty,  _  -  -  - 

23.  Grace,  _----- 

24.  Rhetorical  Propriety,        .  -  -  - 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Kinds  of  Discouusk. 

25-27.  Oratory,  -  -  -     .  ,    " 

28-31.  Derived  species.— Epistolary  Composition, 
32-34.  Representative  Discourse — Pure,  Mixed, 
35-89.  Forms  of  Oratory— Judicial.  Deliberative,  Sacred, 
40.  Kinds  of  Discourse,  -  -  -  - 

CHAPTER  V. 
Divisions  of  Ruetoeio. 
lit  Invention,  Style,  .  -  •  • 


1 


8 
6 


10 
18 


19 
21 
22 
23 
24 


25 

27 
28 
30 
32 


82 


n 


zu 


CONTENTS. 


FIRST  GENERAL  DIVISIOK— INTENTION. 


GExXERAL  VIEW. 


CHAPTER  I. 
Parts  op  Ixv£ntion. 
5  42-46.  Nature  and  Parts,  .  -  - 

CHAPTER  II. 

GENEr.AE   TIIKMli;   OF   DISCOURSE. 

47-52.  Principles  of  selection,  .  .  - 

63.  Moral  end  of  Discourse,         .  -  - 

54.  Objects  of  Discourse,        -  .  -  . 

65.  •  Pi'ocesses,       -  -  -  -  - 

5G-58.  Unity, 

59.  Departments  of  Invention,     -  -  - 

CHAPTER  III. 

Parts  of  a  Discourse. 

60-G5.  Essential  Parts — Proposition  and  Discussion, 
66-71.  Subsidiary  P-irLs — Introduction  and  Peroration, 


PAIH 

iio 


S8 

9 

42 

9 

42 

mt 

42 

^1 

48 

^ 

45 

1 

1 

46 

IK 

47 

% 

PART  I.— EXPLANATION. 


CHAI'TKR  I. 

iNTKODircToiry  View. 

72-T6.  Nature  of  Explanation,  Tlieino,  Unity, 
77,  78.  Pr^ccs.ses — Nnn-ittion,  DoseripfioTi,  Analysis,  Ex- 
emplification, Compari.'-ou  and  Contrast, 

CHAPTER  II. 
Narration. 
70.   Nature,  -  -  - 

&0.  81.   ^>i;npltj  Narration,  -  -  -  . 

82.  83.  Causiil,  -  .  -  -  - 

84.   Abstract,         ----.. 
85-87.  Principles  and  Laws,  -  -  • 

CHAPTER  III. 
Desckiption. 
88-89.  Natui-e,  Subjects,  -  -  .  « 

&0,  03.  Process,  Laws,  «  -  •  • 


51 

-c^H 

54 

*.  i 

4 

'^ 

$ 

67 

67 

M 

68 

'^ 

GO 

^ia 

61 

64 

66 


i 


CONTENTS, 


xm 


TION. 


FAQH 

iio 


88 
42 
42 
42 
48 
45 


46 
47 


51 
54 


67 
67 
58 
GO 
61 


64 

e6 


CHAPTER  rV. 

Analysis. 

i  94-96.  Nature,  Subjects,  Relations, 
97-99.  Speeics— Division,  Partition, 
100-102.  Laws  of  Division,  -  -  - 

103-106.  Laws  of  Partition,. 

CHAPTER  V. 

Exemplification. 

107-109.  Nature,  Subjects,  Relations,     - 
110,  111.  Laws,  -  -  -  " 

CHAPTER  VI. 

fC0)^PAIlIS0N  AND   CONTKAST. 

112,  113.  Nature,  .  .  -  - 

114.  Kinds— simple,  analogical, 
116-117.  Laws,  Relations,  Subjects, 

CHAPTER  VIL 
Introduction  and  Peeokation. 
118,  119.  Introduction— Explanatory,  Conciliatory, 
120,  121.  Peroration— Forms,  Order, 


PART  II.— CONFIRMATION. 


CHAPTER  L 

Inthoductory  View. 

122-124.  Object,  Theme,  Process, 
125-127.  Regard  to  Mind  Addressed, 

CHAPTER  F 

Theme  in  Confirmation. 

12fi,  129.  Form,  Statement, 

CHAPTER  in. 

Proof. 

lSO-132.  Nature,  Kinds,  Process, 

133.  The  Topics,  .  .  - 

CHAPTER  IV. 
The  Topics. 

134.  Object, 

135.  General  Division  of  Proofs, 
136-138.  Analytic  Proofs, 


PASB 

70 
71 
72 
76 


78 
79 


80 

81 

82 


88 

84 


86 

88 


89 


91 
93 


94 

95 
96 


'  ■     v      ' 


, 


t    'i 


1 1  « 

i 


XIV 


CONTENTS. 


j  139,  140.  Synthetic  proofs;—!.  Intuitive, 

141.  2.  Empirical, 

142.  Empirical  proofs ;  from  Experience, 
143-145.  Antecedent  Probability, 
146-149.  Signs — Testimony,  Authority,   103 
160-156.  Examples,  Arguments  from  induction,  from  analogy  106 


PAda 
97 
99 
99 

100 


157.  Complex  arguments, 

168.  Validity  of  empirical  proofs,       -  -  - 

169.  Applicability  of  arguments  to  different  subjecta, 

CHAPTER  V. 

ABBAIiaEMENT  OF  ABanV7.KTS. 

160.  Importance,        -  -  -  •  • 

161-164.  Principles,         -  -  -  • 


CHAPTER  VI. 

PaSSUMFTION. 


165.  Definition, 
166-170.  Principles, 


CHAPTER  VIL 
Refutation. 

171-173.  Definition  and  nature, 

174.  Statement  of  objections,       -  - 

175.  Principles  of  repetition,  -  - 

CHAPTER  VIIL 
Inteoduction  and  Perobatiom 

176.  Introduction  Explanatory, 
177-186.  Conciliatory, 

187.  Peroration,  _  _  - 


PART  III.— EXCITATION. 


CHAPTER  I. 
Introddctout  View. 


188.  Object, 

189.  Process, 
190-194.  Laws, 


195,  196.  Form, 
197-200.  Statement, 


CHAPTER  n. 
Theuk. 


Ill 
114 
115 


116 
116 


119 

121 


125 
126 
126 


127 
128 
182 


188 

134 
185 


188 
139 


97 

99 

99 

100 

;hority,   103 

analogy  106 

-      Ill 

114 

I.      -      115 


116 
-      116 


119 
121 


125 
126 
126 


127 
128 
1S2 


188 

134 
185 


188 
139 


■4 

I 


1 


i 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  III. 
Pathetic  Explanation. 
I  201-206.  Principles, 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Sympathy. 

206.  Necessity,  -  "  j.      .' 

207,  208.  Modes— Direct  and  Indirect, 

209.  Degree,  -  -  -  • 

CHAPTER  V. 
Introduction  and  Peroeation. 

210,  211.  Kinds  admissible, 


ZV 


piaa 
.     142 


145 
146 
148 


.     U9 


150 
153 


154 


PART  IV.— PERSUASION. 

CHAPTER  I. 
Introductory  View. 

212-214.  Objects,  _  -  -  -  • 

216-217.  Process  and  Laws,  _  -  - 

CHAPTER  II. 
Theme. 
218,  219.  Form  and  Statement, 

CHAPTER  III. 
Persuasive  Explanation,  Confirmation,  and  Excitation. 
220-222.  Persuasive  Explanation,  -  -  "1(^7 

223.  Confirmation,      -  -  "  :|^' 

224*.  Excitation,  -  "  -      lo< 

CHAPTER  IV. 

M:>.'VES. 

ifift 
225.  Definition,  -  -  '  "      .    *      168 

226-230.  Classes,       -  -  -  - 

CHAPTER  V. 
Specific  Acts. 
281,  232.  Persuasion,  Dissuasion,  Incitement,      -  -      1"' 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Aeranqement. 


233-238.  Principles, 


lei 


\ 


xvi 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

InTKODUCTION  and  PER0R.1TI0N. 

{  289,  240.  Kinds  Admissible, 


16S 


SECOND  GENERAL  DIVISION— STYLE. 


GENERAL  VIEW. 


iiii 


CHAPTER  I. 

Nature. 

riOB 

241. 
242. 

Definition,                .           -           « 
Analysis,             -           -            • 

CHAPTER  II. 
General  Properties. 

■ 

-      165 
166 

243. 

Divisions— Absolute,  Relative, 

• 

.  -      168 

PART  I.— ABSOLUTE  PROPERTIES. 

CHAPTER  I. 

General  View  of  Language. 

245.  Definition, 171 

246-249.  Divisions — Oral,  Suggestive,  Grammatical,  173 

CHAPTER  II. 

Oral  Properties. 

250-252.  Divisions — Euphony,  Harmony,            -  -      176 

252.  StJidy, 177 

CHAPTER  m. 
EupnoNT. 
253-255.  Principles  of  Euphony,  _  ,  .      179 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Harmony — Harmony  Propku. 

256,  257.  Nature — Divisions,  Harmony  Proper,  Rhythm, 

Melody, 181 

258,  259.  Hjirmony  Proper,  defined,  principles,  -  18* 


OUMTKNT>>. 


xvn 


TAn 

16t 


YLE. 


PAOB 

165 
166 


168 


CHAPTER  V. 
Rhythm. 
2  2G0-2G3.  Definition,  principles, 

CHAPTEP  VI. 
Melody. 

264,  265,  Definition,  kinds,  -  -  - 

2(56.  Melody  of  Proportion— nature,  principles,    _      - 
267-271.  Melody  of  Arrangement— nature,  principles, 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Suggestive  Properties. 

272,  273.  Kinds,  .  -  -  - 

274-280.  Imitative  Properties,  .  -  - 

281-283.  Symbolical  Properties, 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
Grammatical  Propertibb. 

284-287.  Kinds,  standard  of  purity, 

288,  289.  Barbarisms,  .  -  -  - 

290.  Solecisms,  .  -  -  - 

291,  292.  Improprieties,         .  -  -  - 


187 


192 

193 
198 


204 
204 
209 


212 
216 
218 
221 


3. 


PART  II.— SUBJECTIVE  PROPERTIES. 


hm, 


171 
173 


175 
177 


179 


181 
18ft 


CHAPTER  I. 
General  View. 
298-295.  Definition,  divisions,     - 

CHAPTER  II, 

ISlQNinOANOB. 

296.  Reqmsites,  .  -  - 

297.  Spurious  Oratory,    -  -  - 

298.  The  Nonsensical,  -  • 

CHAPTER  ra. 

CONTINUOUSNESS. 

299.  800.  Definition,  modes  of  expressing, 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Naturalness. 
801-805   Definition,  forms. 


225 


927 

227 
229 


.     280 


288 


I  i'i 


ill 


m     i  1!  i      ! 


Tsm 


CONTENTS. 


PART  III.— OBJECTIVE  PROPERTIES. 

CHAPTER  I. 
Geneeal  View. 
I  806-308.  Definition,  kinds,  -  -  -  • 

CHAPTER  II. 

Clbarnijss. 

810,  311.  Definition,  source,  .  -  - 

812.  Kinds  of  Words  required,     -  -  -  • 

813.  Representative  Imagery,  -  - 

814.  316.  Structure  of  the  Sentence,  brevity,      "    _     " 
816-319.  Relation  of  the  Parts  of  the  Sentence,  Rela- 
tive Words,  Arrangement  of  Members,  Pa 
rentheses,     -  -  -  - 

CHAPTER  III. 

Eneeqt. 

820,  821.  Definition,  kinds,  -  -  -  - 

822,  323.  Proper  Energy,  sources,      -  -  - 

324.  Brevity,       -  -  ".,,',."  o       ' 

825-329.  Arrangement,  Unity,  Capital  Members,  Co-or- 
dinate Members,  _  -  - 
830.  Figurative  Eneigy,  sources, 
331-333.  Tropes,        -            "    ,       "  „       " 
834-337.  Simple  Tropes— Synecdoche,  Metonymy, 
338.  Metaphors,          .            -            -            -  - 
839, 340.  Repetition,  Ellipsis,      .           -           -  - 
341.  Representative  Imagery,  species, 

842.  Vision,  Personification,  Hyperbole, 

843.  Comparison  or  Contrast,  _  -  - 

844.  Prosopopoeia,  Apostrophe,  IroL^,  Doubt,  Interroga- 

tion,       _  -  -  -  -  - 

845.  Inversion,  Anacoluthon,  Aposiopesis,  Sententiousness, 
850-863.  Principles  of  Figurative  Expression, 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Eleqanob. 
864,  855.  Definition,  elements,  -  •  - 

856.  Propriety,  -  -  -  .  - 

867.  Expression  of  right  Sentiment,       .  .  - 

868.  Grace,    ------ 

859-862.  Culture  of  Elegance,      .    •     - 


VAOI 

288 


248 
244 

247 
249 


-   260 


255 

256 
257 

268 
263 
264 
266 
268 
270 
271 
271 
274 

277 
279 
282 


286 
286 
287 
287 
288 


-I 


1^- 


CONTENTS. 


zix 


FAoa 

288 


248 
244 

247 
249 


250 


255 
256 
257 

258 
263 
264 
266 
268 
270 
271 
271 
274 


1 


APPENDIX. 

Themes  for  Exeecisb  in  Invention. 

Themes  in  Simple  Narration,  -  ■  " 

Abstract, 

Causal,  -  "  ■  " 

Description  Proper, 

Abstract  Description,      -  -  " 

Analysis, 

Exemplification,  -  "  " 

Comparison  and  Contrast, 
Confirmation,       -  -  -  - 

Excitation,     -  -  -  " 

Persuasion,  -  -  -  " 

MJMellaneoaB,  .  .  - 


piai 

291 

293 

293 

294 

296 

296 

297 

297 

299 

800 

800 

800 


277 
279 
282 


i 


I 
4 


INTRODUCTION. 


OP    THE    IDEA    AND    PROVINCE    OP    RHETORIC. 

§  1.  The  object  of  the  Art  of  Rhetoric  Js  to  de- 
velop AND  GUIDE  THE  FACULTY  OF  DISCOURSE. 

An  art  is  essentially  distinguished  from  a  science  by  the  cir- 
cumstance that,  while  the  latter  proposes  truths  and  principles 
only  as  subjects  of  knowledge,  the  former  carries  them  out 
in  application  to  practice.  An  art,  accordingly,  always 
contemplates  the  exertion  of  some  power  or  faculty;  and 
oroposes  to  point  out  the  means  and  furnish  the  occasion  of 
developing  and  regulating  that  faculty  in  the  best  manner. 
The  art  of  Music,  thus,  addresses  itself  to  the  faculty  of 
song;  and  unfolds  the  principles  and  affords,  in  suitable 
exercises,  the  means  by  which  that  faculty  is  to  be  cultivated 
and  regulated.  Arithmetic,  or  the  art  of  computation, 
teaches  the  principles  by  which  we  must  compute,  and,  also, 
presents  examples  for  exercise,  with  a  view  to  render  the 
learner  dexterous  and  accurate  in  computing.  In  like  man- 
ner, the  Jirt  of  ihetoric  proposes  to  explain  the  principles  by 
which  we  discourse  or  communicate  thought  and  feeling  to 
other  minds,  and  to  furnish  the  means  of  acquiring  a  skill 


auu 


J 

UCAIUIII 


-i. 


-J' 


in  itie  use  o 


f  tl 


lis 


puvv 


er. 


1 


ii*^ 


2  INTRODUCTION. 

Tho  more  particular  determination  and  -I'V^'oP™!-"'  f 
tMrgenoral  notion  of  rl.ctoric  will  bo  exlub.ted  m  tho 
chapters  of  tho  Introduction  that  immoa.atcly  follow^ 

.  It  will  bo  observed  ttal  tho  term  .'diseourso"  i»  ""od  hero  in 
,  .mort  of  •  eommunieation  of  thought  by  n>eaua 

'::::i^U  n."  :,  elrUer  ..tors  to  denote  the  faeult,  or 

attribute  itself  of  thought:  as 

It  adds  to  my  calamity  that  I  havo 
Diacoum  and  reason.— Massinffer. 
Reason  is  her  being, 
Discursive  or  'ntuitivo ;  discourse 
Is  oftest  yours,  the  latter  most  is  OMTB.-Mtlton. 
By  a  common  metonymy  the  word  denoting  the  attribute  ia  use^ 
to  express  the  exercise  and  also  the  product  of  the  exerc.se.    Thus 
Dnjden  uses  the  word  to  denote  the  exercise ; 

The  vanquished  party  with  the  victors  jomed        _ 
Nor  wanted  sweet  discourse,  the  banquet  of  tho  mind. 
It  is  in  this  sense  the  term  is  used  in  the  definition. 

The  ulf  the  term  to  signify  the  product  of  the  .-CTci«.  1.  .0 
^miliar  as  to  need  no  iUustration. 


,''* 


I 


lopmtnt  of 
itcd  in  tbo 
)llow.* 

used  hero  in 
jht  by  means 
the  faculty  or 


—Milton. 

tribute  ia  used 
Lcrcise.    Tliua 


0  mind. 


I 


PROVINCE    OF    HUKTOrUC.  3 

CilAPTEll  I. 

OP    THE    LIMITS    AND    IIKLATION.S    OP     TJIE    ART    OP 

RIIETOllIC. 

§  2.  As  the  various  arts  arc  distinguished  from  each 
0  ther  by  the  particular  faculty  or  power  which  they 
respectively  call  into  exercise,  the  art  of  rhetoric  has 
its  nature  and  essential  character  determined  at  once 
from  its  Ijeing  founded  on  the  faculty  of  discourse,  or 
the  capacity  in  man  of  communicating  his  own  men- 
tal states  to  other  minds,  by  means  of  language. 

Various  names  are  in  current  use  for  the  designation  of 
this  art,  conveying,  however,  slightly  different  sl.ades  of 
meaning.  The  term  eloquence  turns  the  mind  on  the  source, 
and  is  eVivalent  to  the  phrase  verbal  expression,  having  no 
direct  reference  to  the  object  of  speaking.  Oratory,  on  the 
other  hand,  fixes  the  attention  on  the  hearer  or  person  ad- 
dressed, and  directly  suggests  the  idea  of  an  elfect  on  liis 
mind.  Rhetoric,  the  art  of  the  speaker,  expresses  the  thing 
itself,  speaking,  with  no  such  reference  either  to  the  source 
or  to  the  elVect. 

§  3.  Inasmuch  as  Discourse,  in  its  proper  and  origi- 
nal import,  respects  an  effect  on  another  mind,  and  all 
intentional  operations  of  one  mind  on  another  come 
under  the  control  of  moral  principles;  and,  in  so  far, 
moreover,  as  it  expresses  moral  states  or  aims  to  excite 
them,  rhetoric  Ijears  a  close  affmity  to  ethics. 

Tlje  ancient  rhetoricians,  as  for  instance,  Aristotle,  re- 
garded rhetoric  as  but  a  specific  development  and  applica- 
tion of  ethical  science.  So,  likewise,  it  is  now  regarded  by 
some  German   writers,  particularly,   by  Theremin.      This 


i  ji 


.  i 


I 


t'  i 
r  t 


,nuch,  at  least,  is  true.  AH  proper  oratory  .s  a  j.rsonal 
procedure.  It  i.npUes  a  person  in  the  concrete  luness  ot 
Ls  personal  relations  addressing  other  persons  in  the  con™ 
Crete  fullness  of  their  personal  relations,  bo  i  ant  is  a 
amoral  procedure  and  comes  under  the  supervision  of  ethics 

Rhetoric  is,  by  no  means,  however,  a  part  of  mora 
science  If  it  represent  moral  states,  if  it  imply  a  moral 
;.uu,  If,  consequently,  it  must  proceed  in  conformity  to 
,nural  principles,  still,  it  does  not  follow  that  it  is  a  de- 
purtment  of  ethics.  Every  systematic  procedure  on  the 
part  of  man  partakes  of  this  moral  relationship.  Rhetoric 
but  takes  elements  or  principles  given  by  ethics  and  weaves 
them  with  others,  on  principles  of  its  own,  into  a  particular 
science  or  art.  It  is  no  more  a  department  ot  ethics  than 
of  physiology. 

N  4    III  so  far  as  Discourse  is  a  representation  ot 
feelino-  or  addresses  feeling  in  another  mind,  it  bears 
an  inliniatc  relation  to  the  science  of  the  Emo- 

TIOXS    AND  THE  P ASSIGNS. 

Rhetoric  thus  derives  from  this  science  the  principles  by 
which  discourse  is  to  be  regulated  both  in  the  expression  of 
feelino-  and  in  the  excitement  of  feeling.  It  assumes  these 
princblcs,  however,  as  known,  and  does  not  properly  regard 
the  investigation  of  them  as  lying  within  its  own  province. 
It  takes  the  analysis  of  the  feelings,  the  classification,  the 
description,  the  relations  between  them,  as  furnished  by  the 
appropriate  science,  and  uses  them  for  its  own  peculiar  ends. 
^  5  Discourse,  as  the  product  of  a  imnd  working 
freely,  and  directly  abning  at  an  effect  in  anotiier 
mind  similarly  constituted,  involves  and  requires  the 

exercise  of  Taste. 

ll.ieToric.   accordin-ly,  presupposes   the    science  ot 


.:;* 


PUOVIXCE    OF    UHETORIC. 


5 


s  a  j)e.rso7ial 
Le  fullness  of 
j  in  the  con- 
0  far  it  is  a 
ion  of  ethics. 
,art  of  moral 
Bply  a  moral 
conformity  to 
at  it  is  a  de- 
edure  on  the 
ip.  Rhetoric 
;s  and  weaves 
to  a  particular 
)f  ethics  thaa 

sentation  of 
lind,  it  beats 
P  THE  Emo- 

principlcs  by 
!  expression  of 
assumes  these 
roperly  regard 
own  province, 
ssification,  the 
rnished  by  the 
L  peculiar  ends. 

lind  working 

;t  in  anotlior 

requires  the 


le    science 


of 


Taste  or  v^ esthetics.     It  assumes  aesthetic  prin- 
ciple, and  applies  them  to  the  production  of  discourse. 

The  relation  of  Rhetoric  to  Aesthetics  will  be  more  par- 
ticularly defined  under  Chapter  III. 

§  6.  As  the  art  of  communicating  thought,  rhetoric 
presupposes  Logic,  or  the  science  which  unfolds  the 
laws  of  thought,  and  enumerates  and  classifies  the 
various  conceptions,  judgments  and  conclusions  of 
which  the  human  mind  is  capable.  It,  however 
merely  assumes  those  laws  as  known,  and  does  not 
properly  embrace  a  consideration  of  them  within  its 
own  province. 

§  7.  As  the  art  of  commimicating  thought  by  means 
of  language,  rhetoric  also  presupposes  Grammar,  o' 
the  science  of  language.     It  takes  the  results  of  gram 
matical  investis^ations  and  the  laws  of  lanoruafje  as 
settled,  and  applies  them  to  its  own  purpose. 

The  field  of  rhetoric  is  tjius  seen  to  be  distinctly  defines 
and  separated  from  both  Logic  and  Grammar.  That  it  ha., 
ever  been  suffered  to  trench  on  these  fields  and  assume  intc 
itself  purely  logical  or  grammatical  investigations  and  dis- 
cussions, is  to  be  attributed  only  to  vagus  and  indefinite 
views  of  the  proper  province  of  rhetoric.  It  was  from  the 
same  vague  apprehensions  in  regard  to  the  proper  province 
of  rhetoric  that  the  ancient  rhetoricians  very  generally 
included  in  their  systems  the  principles  of  Ethics  -^nd  the 
doctrine  of  the  feelings.  Even  Aristotle  devotes  a  large 
part  of  his  treatise  on  Rhetoric  to  a  discussion  of  the  naturt 
of  tilt'  di'Vereat  passions  or  affections. 

The  distinction  between  rhetoric  on  the  one  hand,  and 

logic  and  grammar  on  the  otiier,  may,  perhaps,  be  more 

perfectly  apprehended  from  the  following  definitions: 

1* 


■f 


!  :  t: 


g  INTIJODUOTION. 

L„.ic,  in  the  more  comprehensive  view  of  the  science  i. 
the  d:ct,ine  of  ideas,  conceptions,  and  judg.nents  In  other 
words,  logic  enumerates  the  various  possible  states  of  the 
intelle  t,  Whether  ideas,  conceptions,  or  j„dg,„ents  class.hes 
them,  determines  their  forms,  and  shows  their  relations  and 
the  occasions  or  modes  of  their  appearing 

Grammar  is  the  doctrine  of  words  and  sentences.  In 
other  .vords,  grammar  unfolds  th*  laws  by  which  thevar.ou. 
forms  of  thought  appear  in  language;  by  which  logical  ideas 
and  conceptions,  in  themselves  and  in  their  relations,  em- 
tody  themselves  in  words  and  logical  judgments  in  sen- 

Rhetoric  is  the  doctrine  of  discourse.  It  takes,  first,  the 
individual  ideas,  conceptions  and  judgments  of  logic,  and 
unites  them  into  living  wholes  of  thought  by  penetrating 
them  with  a  rational  aim;  and  then  embodies  these  concrete 
wholes  into  continuous  discourse  made  up  of  the  words  and 
sentences  which  grammar  has  furnished. 

Lo-ic  and  grammar  thus  supply  the  lifeless  and  frag- 
mentary elements.  Rhetoric  trfkes  them  and  constructs 
them  into  discourse;  into  a  living  concrete  whole,  animated 
with  the  proper  life  of  feeling,  and  the  proper  moral  aim 
which  discourse  in  its  original  import  ever  implies. 

§  8  The  art  of  rhetoric  cannot  in  strictness  be  re- 
garded as  having  accomplished  its  end  until  the  men- 
tal states  to  be  communicated  are  actually  conveyed 
to  the  mind  addressed.  It,  therefore,  may  properly 
comprehend  Delivery. 

The  mode  of  communication,  however,  is  not  ess(  n- 

tial.     The  thought  may  be  conveyed  by  the  pen  or  by 

the  voice.     Elocution,  or  the  vocal  expression  of 

thought,  is  not  accordingly  a  necessary  part  of  ihetonc. 

Elocution  or  vocal  dehvery  has,  indeed,  generally  been 


e  science,  ia 
s.  In  other 
states  of  the 
tits,  classifies 
elations  and 

itences.  In 
li  the  various 
logical  ideas 
elations,  em- 
lents  in  sen- 

kes,  first,  the 
of  logic,  and 
r  penetrating 
hese  concrete 
he  words  and 

!ss  and  frag- 
id  constructs 
ole,  animated 
IX  moral  aim 
plies. 

itness  be  re- 
itil  the  men- 
lly  conveyed 
lay  properly 

is  not  essf  n- 
he  pen  or  by 
xpression  of 
it  of  rhetoric. 

renerally  been 


PROVINCE    OF    RHETORIC.  7 

esteemed  a  constituent  part  of  the  art  of  rhetoric.     Diverse 
considerations,  however,  justify  the  propriety  of  separating 

them. 

First,  Elocution  is  not  essential  to  rhetoric  in  order  to 
constitute  it  an  art;  because,  as  has  been  already  remarked, 
there  are  other  ways  of  communicating  thought  than  by  the 

voice. 

Secondly,  we  have  a  complete  product  of  art  when  the 
thought  is  embodied  in  a  proper  form  of  language.  Short 
of  this,  of  incorporating  into  language,  the  artist  cannot 
stop.  For  no  art  is  complete  till  its  product  is  expressed,  or 
embodied.  Mere  invention  does  not  constitute  the  whole  of 
artistic  power,  in  any  proper  sense  of  that  expression.  But 
when  the  thought  is  invested  in  language,  a  work  of  art  is 
completed.  A  farther  exertion  of  artistic  power  is  not 
necessary  in  order  to  give  it  expression.  It  requires  no 
skill  to  dictate,  no  oratorical  dexterity,  certainly,  to  commit 
to  writing.  We  have  then  the  limits  of  a  complete  art  be- 
fore elocution. 

Thirdly,  the  arts  of  rhetoric  proper,  and  of  elocution,  are 
so  distinct  that  great  excellence  in  either  may  consist  with 
great  deficiency  in  the  other.  There  have  been  many  orators 
who  could  write  good  orations  but  were  miserable  speakers; 
and  many  excellent  actors,  who  were  utterly  unable  to  con- 
struct an  original  discourse. 

Fourthly,  the  modes  of  training  in  these  different  arts  are 
so  unlike,  that  convenience,  both  to  the  instructor  and  to  the 
pupil,  requires  that  they  be  separated. 

§  9.  In  so  far  as  Discourse  is  the  embodiment  of 
thought  in  language,  Rhetoric  and  the  art  of  Poetry 
stand  on  common  ground  and  are  subject  to  common 
principles.  They  may  be  distinguished  from  each 
other  by  the  following  specific  definitions  ;  viz  : 


\m 


8 


INTRODL'CTION» 


Rhetoric  or  the  art  of  Oratory  is  the  embodiment  )f 
thought  in  language  with  a  view  to  an  effect  m 
another  mind ; 

Poetry  is  the  embodiment  of  aesthetic  ideas  in 
language  simply  for  the  sake  of  aesthetic  expression. 

Rhetoric  and  poetry  have,  thus,  much  in  common.  They 
both  express  thought.  They  are  so  far  subject  alike  to  the 
laws  of  logical  science. 

The  medium  of  expression  in  both  is  the  same — language. 
The  principles  of  style,  accordingly,  apply,  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent, alike  to  both. 

They  are  both  aesthetic  arts;  and  come  alike,  conse- 
quently, under  the  laws  of  Taste. 

Many  of  the  principles  of  rhetoric  are,  therefore,  equally 
applicable  to  poetry.  They  admit  illustrations,  alike,  from 
both  of  these  arts. 

But  thijy  differ  both  iu  content  and  in  form.  All  thought, 
all  at  least,  which  can  be  serviceable  to  the  moral  effect  that 
either  directly  or  remotely  belongs  to  all  oratory,  is  appro- 
priate to  rhetoric,  whether  purely  intellectual,  or  animated 
with  emotion  and  fancy.  Poetry  can  properly  make  use 
only  of  aesthetic  ideas. 

The  language  of  oratory  is  not  confined,  as  is  that  of 
poetry,  to  mere  aesthetic  expression.  Poetry  has  a  style  as 
well  as  a  content  of  its  own. 

Rhetoric,  moreover,  whilo  proceeding  in  accordance  with 
aesthetic  laws,  admits  another  end  which  is  foreign  to 
aesthetics;  and  aesthetic  laws  in  their  application  to  it,  fcike 
direct  cognizance  of  this  foreign  end,  which  is  possible 
through  the  aesthetic  element  of  propriety.  See  Chao.  III. 
Poetry  has  no  such  aim  foreign  to  aesthetic  expression. 

Rhetoric  and  poetry,  therefore,  are  distinct  arts;  diffijrin^', 
ifessentially,  iu  conteut,  form  fiad  law  ai'  proceecHng.     TU» 


iS 


odimeni  )f 
n  effect  m 

;c  ideas  in 
ixpression. 

mon.  They 
:  alike  to  the 

; — language. 
a  certain  ex- 

alike^   conse- 

ifore,  equally 
\,  alike^  from 

All  thought, 
-al  effect  that 
ry,  is  appro- 
or  animated 
y  make  use 

LS  is  that  of 
as  a  style  as 

Drdance  with 
3  foreign  to 
m  to  it,  tike 
1  is  possible 
ie  Chao.  III. 
iression. 
ts;  differing, 
■e(fing.     TU» 


■m. 


PlJOVL\CE    OF    HIIETORIC.  9 

ultimate  ground  of  the  distinction  lies  in  the  aim.  The 
orator  seeks  an  effect  in  another  mind;  the  poet  seeks  only 
to  express  beautiful  ideas  in  beautiful  forms  for  the  sake  of 
the  expression  itself. 

Poetry,  thus,  has  both  an   essential  nature   and  a  form 
of  its  own.     The  form  is  the  natural-  product  of  the  peculiar 
poetic  life  or  spirit.     It  is  only  in  partial  truth  that  we  can 
say  '^mere  verse  is  poetry/  as  we  can  only  in   partial  truth 
say  '  an  idiot  is  a  man/  since  reason,  which  the  idiot  lacks, 
is  the  essential  attribute  of  man.     So,  on  the  oth<?r  liand,  it 
is  only  in  partial  truth  that  we  can  say  '  the  peculiar  poetic 
spirit  without  the  proper  poetic  form  makes  discourse  poeiry.' 
It  is  only  as  we  may  cull  a  disembodied  spirit  a  man;  it  has 
the  essential  nature,  not  the  form.     As  a  human  spirit  and 
a   luunaa   body  unite  in  our  conception  of  a  man;  so   the 
pueac   spirit  and    the   poetic  foim    must  unite   in  any  just 
conception  of  j)oetry.'*' 

*  In  !i  review  of  Hegel's  Aesthetics  in  the  British  and  Foreign 
I{eview  for  Feb.  1842,  this  idea  of  the  npture  of  poetry  is  happily 
developed.  "Verse,"  it  is  there  concluded,  "is  not  synonymous 
with  poelrvt  but  is  the  incarnation  of  it;  and  prose  may  be  emotive 
— poetical,  but  never  poetry." 

The  following  passages,  quoted  in  this  article,  will  serve  still 
further  to  sanction  and  elucidate  some  of  the  positions  given  in  the 
text. 

*'A11  emotion  which  has  taken  possession  of  the  whole  being— 
which  flows  irresistibly,  and  therefore  equally — instinctively  seeks 
a  language  that  flows  equally  like  itself,  and  must  either  find  it,  or 
be  conscious  of  an  unsatisfied  want,  whicii  ever  impedes  and  pre- 
maturely stops  the  flow  of  feeling.  Hence,  ever  since  man  has 
been  man,  all  deep  and  sustained  feeling  has  tended  to  express 
itself  in  rhythmical  language ;  and  the  deeper  the  feeling,  the  more 
characteristic  and  decided  the  rhythm,  provided  always  the  feeling 
be  sustained  as  weU  as  deep.  For  a  fit  of  passion  has  no  natural 
connection  with  verse  or  music;  a  mood  of  passion  the  strongest.' 
Westminster  Reiiem  April,  1838.     The  term  rhythm,  here  raual 


]n 


1^ 


10 


INTRODUCTION 

CHAPTER  II. 


OP   RHETORIC    AS    A    DEVELOPING    ART. 

^  10.  As  every  proper  act  respects  a  faculty,  (§2,) 
and  as  every  such  faculty  is  susceptible  of  develop- 
ment and  invigoiation  which  the  art  seeks  as  its  great 
aim  to  promote  and  secure,  every  true  conception  of 
rhetoric  must  regard  it  as  a  developing  and  invigora" 
ting  art. 

There  is  a  most  remarkable  opposition  between  the  views 
of  the  ancients  in  this  respect  and  the  current  opinit)ns  of 
the  moderns.  With  the  ancients^  rhetoric  was  chiefly  prized 
as  an  art  which  developed  and  cidtivated  the  faculty  of 
speaking.  Their  written  systems  and  their  teachings  in 
schools  were  designed  and  fitted  to  draw  out  this  faculty, 
and  strengthen  and  improve  it  by  judicious  practice.  They 
sought  this  even,  as  there  is  some  reason  to  believe,  at  the 
spcrifice  of  good  taste.  They  loved  luxuriance  and  labored 
in  every  way  to  promote  it.  The  moderns,  on  the  other 
hand,  have  too  much  regarded  rhetoric  as  a  merely  critical 
art.     They  have  directed  their  attention  mainly  to  pruning, 

evidently  bo  taken  in  its  Lirgost  import,  to  include  all  tlie  various 
modes  in  which  a  recurring  uniformity  of  expression  can  appear 
iji  discourse,  whether  rhyme  or  alliteration. 

*'  Poetry  and  eloquence,  are  both  alike  the  expression  or  uttering 
forth  of  feeling.  *  *  *  Eloquence  supposes  an  audience ;  the 
peculiarity  of  poetry  appears  to  us  to  lie  in  the  poet's  utter  uncon- 
Roiousness  of  a  listener.  Poetry  is  feeling  confessing  itself  to  itself 
in  moments  of  solitude,  and  bodying  forth  itself  in  symbols,  which 
are  the  nearest  possible  representations  of  the  exact  shape  in  which 
it  exists  in  the  poet's  mind.  Eloquence  is  feeling  pouring  itself 
forth  to  other  minds,  courting  their  sympathy,  or  endeavoring  to  in- 
fluence their  belief,  or  move  them  to  pasdion  or  to  action." — Monthlf 
Repository,  Vol.  III.  p.  64. 


RHKIOinCA    Dl'lVI'.LOPIXG    ART. 


11 


iRT. 

;ulty,  (§2,) 
of  develop- 
as  its  great 
iception  of 
i  invigora- 

3n  the  views 
)j)init)ns  of 
hiefly  prized 
;  faculty  of 
cachings  in 
this  faculty, 
ctice.  They 
ilieve,  at  the 
and  labored 
)n  the  other 
?rely  critical 
to  pruning, 

I  tlie  various 
n  can  appear 

n  or  utterinff 
ludience;  the 
utter  uncon- 
itself  to  itself 
ymbols,  which 
lape  in  which 
jouring  itself 
;avoring  to  in- 
n."— Monthly 


repressing,  and  guiding;  and  have  almost  wholly  neglected  to 
apply  any  stimulus  to  the  faculty  of  discourse  itself.  Their 
iuiluence  on  the  student  of  oratory  has  been,  accordingly,  at 
best  but  a  negative  influence;  and  any  thing  but  fostering 
and  nourishing.  This  has  been  an  almost  unavoidable 
result  from  their  eKcluding  from  their  systems  the  art  of 
invention.  For  it  is  here — in  invention — that  the  creative 
work  in  discourse  mainly  lies.  Style,  considered  apart  from 
invention,  is  lifeless  and  dead;  and  can  feci  no  stimulus  if 
applied.  It  drops,  indeed,  when  thus  regarded,  from  the 
position  of  a  creative  art,  to  the  level  of  a  mere  science.  It 
is,  thus,  not  without  reason  that  merely  critical  systems -of 
rhetoric  are  generally  regarded  as  of  more  injury  than  benelit 
to  the  student  of  eloquence,  at  least  until  the  I'aculty  of 
speaking  has  been  considerably  developed. 

The  commonly  received  maxim,  "  he  who  is  learning  to 
speak  with  accuracy  and  order  is  learning  also  to  think  with 
accuracy  and  order,"  expresses  but  a  part  of  the  truth.  The 
study  of  style,  and  especially,  the  study  of  style  as  an  art 
in  the  exercise  of  composing,  undoubtedly  conduces  to  accu- 
rate and  methodical  habits  of  thought.  But  "^to  speak  with 
accuracy  and  order,''  including  in  the  expression  not  only  the 
selection  of  language,  but  also  the  invention  of  thought,  acts 
more  directly  on  the  intellect  in  determining  its  habits.  The 
exercise  not  only  disciplines  it  to  regular  and  accurate 
thought;  it  also  directly  invigorates  and  develops  the  intel- 
lect itself.  Indeed,  there  is  no  exercise  that  more  directlj'- 
and  more  powerfully  tends  to  mental  development  and  invig- 
oration,  when  pursued  in  conformity  with  the  principles  of 
thought  and  expression.  The  mental  effort  called  forth  in 
the  invention  of  thought  and  the  embodiment  of  it  in  appro- 
priate language  is,  when  directed  intelligently  and  correctly, 
at  the  sunie  tiui'3,  the   most  plea.-^ing  and  also   the  most  in- 


larT' — ir»Tm-rriiini 


■mmmm 


I! 


!  :  'i 


iii; 


m 


12 


INTKODtHT/O^r. 


vigorating  and  fostering  that  is  possible  to  the  human 
mind.  Rhetoric,  therefore,  studied  as  an  art,  in  connection 
with  a  practical  application  of  its  principles,  may  and  should 
be,  one  of  the  most  pleasing  and  one  of  the  most  profitable 
of  studies. 

§  11.  The  faculty  of  discourse  or  the  power  to  com- 
municate thought  by  language  is  the  common  attri- 
bute of  men  ;  and  is  susceptible  of  indefinite  degrees 
of  improvement  and  cultivation. 

Speech  is  the  distinctive  attribute  of  humanity.  This 
general  truth  needs  no  modification  to  meet  the  case  of  deaf- 
mutes.  While,  undoubtedly,  individuals  differ  indefinitely 
in  the  degrees  to  which  they  possess  the  power  of  vigorous 
thought  and  of  forcible  expression, — while  there  are  geniuses 
here  as  in  every  other  art,  still  it  remains  true  that  this 
faculty  is  subject  to  the  laws  which  regulate  all  the  various 
activities  of  our  nature.  The  degree  of  excellence  to  *^ 
attained  in  discourse  will  depend  on  the  training — on  ict. 
mode  and  the  degree  to  which  it  is  carried.  Orator  fit — the 
orator  becomes  such.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  a  natural 
orator  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  expression.  The  most  emi- 
nent orators  and  writers  have  ever  been  those  who  have 
submitted  themselves  to  the  most  thorough  training.  Pat- 
rick Henry,  the  most  illustrious  example  of  natural  oratory, 
so  far  as  there  is  any  such,  went  through  a  course  of  training 
in  his  daily  studies  of  human  nature  as  drawn  out  by  him- 
self in  his  little  shop,  his  every  day  trials  on  his  lingering 
customers  of  the  power  of  words,  his  deep  and  enthusiastic 
investigations  into  hiatory,  and  particularly  his  patient  and 
continued  study  of  the  harangues  of  Livy,  which,  to  say  the 
least,  is  very  uncommon.  The  orator  is  the  product  ut." 
training. 


RIIKTOUU:    A    UI".VHLOPL\«    ART. 


\3 


to  the  human 
,  in  connection 
my  and  should 
most  profitable 

)ower  to  com- 
ommon  attri- 
finite  degrees 

lanity.  This 
le  case  of  deaf- 
Bfer  indefinitely 
'CT  of  vigorous 
re  are  geniuses 
true  that  this 
all  the  various 
cellence  to  ^' 
aiuing — on  ict, 
')  rat  or  fit — the 
^  as  a  natural 
The  most  emi- 
iose  who  have 
raining.  Pat- 
atural  oratory, 
irse  of  training 
I'n  out  by  him- 
L  his  lingering 
nd  enthusiastic 
his  patient  and 
hich,  to  say  tlie 
:ie   pioduci   uf 


3 


§  12.  The  m(3aiis  by  which  every  art  seeks  its  de- 
vebprnent  and  improvement  are  twofold :  by  a  study 
of  the  nature  and  principles  of  the  art,  and  by  exer- 
cise. 

It  is  obvious  that  there  can  be  no  true  skill  or  excellence 
in  any  art  unless  its  nature  and  the  necessary  principles 
which  govern  it  are  understood.  It  is  equally  obvious  that 
no  amount  of  this  knowledge  will,  without  exercise,  secure 
practical  skill  in  the  art. 

Obvious  and  unquestionable  as  are  these  remarks,  yet  the 
entire  force  and  propriety  of  each  of  tliein  are  assailed, 
iiulireclly  and  in  application,  by  difierent  classes  of  njiuds. 
Que  class  rejects  the  study  of  principles  in  an  art  on  the 
ground  that  the  observance  of  rules  at  tlie  time  will  inevit- 
ably impede  the  execution.  They  ridicule  the  notion  of  a 
poeVs  askinjr  himself,  at  the  time  of  composing,  what  this 
rule  requires  and  that  rule  prohibits;  of  a  musician's  refer- 
ring constantly,  while  performing,  to  his  gamut,  to  the  rules 
of  time,  harmony,  force,  &c.,  which  he  finds  laid  down  in 
his  Musical  Grammar.  They  object  to  the  use  of  Grammars 
in  acquiring  any  art,  whether  of  poetry,  oratory,  or  music, 
because,  they  say,  such  study  makes  only  stiff"  and  awkward 
Dcrformers. 

This  view  is  extremely  superficial  and  partial.     It  is  so 

iar  true,  indeed,  that  a  conscious  observance  of  rules  in 

composing  will  impede  the  free  operation  of  the  mind;  will 

make  the  proceeding  mechanical,  and  hence,  awkward  and 

lifcress.     But  it  by  no  means  follows  from  this,  that  when 

the  rule  has,  by  study  and  application,  become  a  principle 

in  the  mind,  ruling  it  unconsciously,  as  is  the  case  witli  the 

expert  artist,  in  all  its  free  action,  the  proceeding  will  be  less 

free,  living,  graceful,  than  it  Avould  have  been  without  study,. 

and   of   cours'',  in  ignora-ice    ">r  at    hnp   huzkid.      On  tht 

2 


If 


III 


111 


xssmassamaxmi 


4 


•V 


Iki  '|M 


1 M  ii 


M 


INTWODUCTION. 


.ontrarv,  all  proceeding  in  art  is  perfect  ouly  in  propornou  tb 
the  intelligence  of  the  artist;  and  it  is  the  law  of  the  human 
spirit  that  it  learn  slowly,  by  degrees,  and  from  without. 
Principles  of  art  are  not  innate.  They  spring  up  only  on 
observation  or  study.  How  much  more  rational  it  is  to 
receive  by  study  the  generalized  facts  of  all  perfect  proceed- 
ing  in  art  with  proper  illustrations  from  models,  than  to 
work  them  out,  as  does  the  savage  so  far  as  he  does  it,  by 
unaided  observation  and  reflection,  it  is  not  necessary  to 

labor  in  demonstrating.  ^ 

The  whole  matter  may  be  exhibited  in  few  words.     All 
ait,  whether  poetry,  oratory,  music,  or  printing,  as  a  ra- 
tional procedure,  must  be  in  accordance  with  certain  princi- 
ples.    It  must  proceed,  farther,  in  intelligence;  that  is,  with 
an    intelligent  conformity   to  those  principles,  either   con- 
sciously  or  unconsciously   apprehended.     These   principles 
can  better  be  acquired  when  reduced  to  a  scientific  torm, 
tliat  is,  to  a  form  adapted  to  the  understanding,  than  other- 
v\  ise.      Tims  intellectually  apprehended,  as  rules  prescribed 
from  without,  they  become,  by  continued  application  or  in 
exercise,  directing  and  animating  principles,  exerting   an 
unconscious  control.     What  is  drudgery  at  first,  mere  me- 
chanical application,  thus,  becomes  eventually  the  most  Iree, 
the   most  spirited,  the   most   truly    artistic   creation.     The 
poetry  of  Goethe,  and  of  Coleridge,  is  not  less  perfect,  cer- 
tainly, because  they  were  intellectual  masters  of  the  princi- 
ples of  poetry. 

The  other  class  reject  practice  in  acquiring  an  art,  be- 
cause, as  regulated  step  by  step  by  a  reference  to  rules,  it  is 
necessarily  imperfect  and  awkward;  and,  because,  practice 
merely  for  practice  must  be  mechanical  and  spiritless.  They 
would  master,  intellectually,  the  principles  perfectly,  and 
then  hoMc  for  a  i)er:cct  proceeding  in  compliance  with  them. 


Riir/roiiic  A  nnvKLopiNu  art. 


15 


in  proportion  to 
V  of  the  human 
from  without, 
ing  up  only  on 
ational  it  is  to 
perfect  proceed- 
models,  than  to 
s  he  does  it,  by 
,ot  necessary  to 

3W  words.  All 
Lutiug,  as  a  ra- 
h  certain  princi- 
ce;  that  is,  with 
)les,  eitlier  con- 
rhese  principles 
scienliiic  form, 
ling,  than  other- 
rules  prescribed 
ipplication  or  in 
les,  exerting  an 
t  first,  mere  me- 
ly  the  most  free, 
;  creation.  The 
less  perfect,  cer- 
ers  of  the  princi- 

iring  an  art,  be- 
iice  to  rules,  it  is 
because,  practice 
I  spiritless.  They 
3S  perfectly,  and 
liaiice  with  them. 


While  tlie  former  class  made  art  iadepeudeut  of  inlelli- 
jreuro,  these  make  it  indepeadeut  of  all  training  o*"  the 
creative   powers.     They  occupy,  consequently,  the  opposite 

eAtrtMue. 

The  truth  lies  between.  It  is  a  law  of  the  human  spirit 
that  its  highest  degree  of  free  spontaneous  action  can  be  at- 
fnined  only  bv  previuu.s  sul)jeclion  to  rule;  and,  generally, 
the  severer  the  labor  in  the  observance  of  this  rule,  the  freer 
will  be  the  play  of  the  creating  spirit. 

Natura  iieret  laudabile  carmen  an  arte 
Quaesitum  est.     Ego  nee  studium  sine  divite  vena 
Nee  rude  quid  posset  video  ingenium.     Allerius  sic 
Altera  poscit  opem  res  et  conjurat  amice. 

Ho  rat.  Ep.  ad  Pi  son. 

These  rules,  of  old  discovered,  not  devised. 
Are  Nature  still,  but  Nature  methodized. 

Pope,  Essay  on  Crit, 

§  13.  The  knowledge  of  the  nature  and  principles 
of  the  art  of  rhetoric  is  attained  chiefly  in  two  ways ; 
viz :  by  the  study  of  rhetorical  systems,  and  by  the 
study  of  models  in  eloquence. 

The  great  use  of  systems  of  rhetoric,  as  of  other  arts,  is 
to  facilitate  the  acquisition  of  the  principles  of  the  art  by  a 
brief,  methodical  and  particular  exposition  of  them.  Such 
systems  present  the  results  of  the  investigations,  the  expe- 
rience and  observations  of  many  minds.  The  utility  of 
grammars  of  music  to  all  learners  of  that  art  is  at  once 
perceived  and  appreciated.  A  similar  utility  may  be  ex- 
pected from  correct  systems  in  all  the  arts. 

The  study  of  models  is  equally  important.  It  is  hardly 
practicable  for  the  human  mind  to  obtain  a  clear  and  fa- 
miliar knowledge  of  any  art  without  illustrations  and  exem- 
plifications.    This  gieat    means  of    training   the    ancients 


,,.  iMRMDKTION. 

It) 

,••,,•  Tn  flip  use  of  this  iiieaiis,  n.iirn 

de.ioiiiinatfd  /m//r//^v^ .     I'l  "le  use 

caution  is  necessary.  ,    .    , 

In  the  tirst  place,  discretion    and    sound   ju.lg.Mcnl   are 
renuisite  iu  the  selection  of  models.     An  nnn.uture  tuste  . 
liable  to  be  pleased  with  false  beauties  and  excellenaes.     A 
orrupt  taste  will  select  a  model  that  abounds  in  the  l.vul 
which  it  loves;  and  thus  conhrm  rather  than  correct  itsell 
The  ..nly  safe  guide  is  the  established  opinion  of  men  o 
taste  and  sound  judgment.     The  world  has  pronounced    ts 
sentence  in  regard  to   many  writers  and  speakers.      1  ns 
geaeral  and  united  decision  it  is  ever  safer  to  follow  than  the 
erratic  judgment  of  an  individual.  ,     ,    ,    . 

lu  the  next  place,  caution  is  necessary  m  the  actual  study 
of  even  good  models.      A  perfectly   faultless  model  is  no 
where  to  be  found.     The  best  poets  and  the  best  orators 
have  shone  only  in  particular  excellencies.     As  in  nature, 
perfect  beauty  is  to  be  found  in  no  one  thing,  but  our  con- 
ception of  it  is  to  be  gained  only  by  sel«ction-by  combin- 
ino-  the  particular  excellencies  that  arc  to  be  f.^und  in  dilTer- 
en"  objects  of  the  same  class,  excluding  the  imperfections  of 
each   in  order  to  obtain  a  perfect  ideal;  so  in  literature  and 
oratory,  as  in  every  art,  an  idea  of  what  is  perfect  in  every 
feature,  is  to  be  gained  only  by  the  studj-  of  various  pro- 
ducts    While,  accordingly,  the  best  models  are  to  be  selected 
for  study,  even  these  should  be  studied  only  for  their  char- 
acteristic excellencies.     Nothing  can  be  more  injurious  tc 
the  taste  or  to  the  creative  faculty  of  invention  than  servilelj 
to  copy  any  one  model  however   excellent.     Such   servik 
imitation  will,  '  >r  the  most  part,  catch  up  only  the  fault, 
while  it  will  fail  to  reach  the  virtues  of  the  model;  and  at 
the  same  time  prove  fatal  to  all  that  originality  Avhich  is  the 

life  of  every  art. 

p  i,  the  proper  luiuMluu  K^^  a  system  of  rhetoric  to  pmn 


t 
h 


i  iiicnils,  n.m-n 

judgiiicnl  are 
mature  tudti-  ifj 
iccellencies.  A 
Is  in  the  r.vults 
n  correct  itsell'. 
ion  of  men  of 
pronounced  its 
ipenkers.  Tliis 
follow  than  tlie 

he  actual  study 
ss  model  is  no 
he  hest  orators 

As  in  nature, 
rr,  but  our  con- 
)n — by  combin- 
found  in  dilTer- 
iniperfections  of 
in  literature  and 
perfect  in  every 
of  various  pro- 
ire  to  be  selected 
r  for  their  char- 
ore  injurious  t( 
on  than  serviklj 
t.     Such   servile 

only  the  faulta 
!  model;  and  at 
lity  which  is  the 

rhetoric  to  ))uiu 


^ 


RUUTOItIC    A    lUiVKLOriNU    ART.  17 

out  tVe  best  models  iu  tiie  several  properties  of  gocd  (X\*- 
course. 

§  14.  Every  art  as  a  developing  uit  must  rely 
mainly  on  judicious  exercise  as  tlie  means  of  altanmig 
its  end. 

iNo  knowledge  of  principles,  however  thorough,  no  study 
of  models,  however  extended,  will  make  an  artist  without 
exercise.  Indeed,  there  is  a  possibility  of  cultivating  the 
judgment  and  the  taste  to  an  excess  as  compared  with  the 
creative  power,  so  as  to  impede  rather  than  to  aid  the  exer- 
tion of  it.  A  highly  reliued  taste  will  be  oil'endcd  and  dis- 
gusted with  the  imperfect  products  of  a  feeble  inventive  and 
constructive  power;  and  the  work  of  composing  may  be 
made  thus  a  constantly  disagreeable  and  repulsive  work. 
This  is  experienced  by  nearly  all  who  have  neglected  the  art 
of  writing  or  speaking  till  the  taste  has  become  considerably 
developed  and  cultivated.  They  Mnd  themselves  unable,  in 
writing  or  speaking,  to  reach  the  standard  that  their  relined 
taste  requires  them  to  attain,  and  they  are  repulsed  and  dis- 
heartened. It  is  only  when  the  creative  power  is  developed 
in  some  proportion  to  the  taste,  that  there  can  be  that  in- 
s[)iration  which  fires  the  true  artist,  and  makes  the  execution 
of  his  power  his  highest  pleasure  and  delight.  This  devel- 
opment of  the  creative  faculty  depends  on  exercise.  As  with 
the  muscles  of  the  body,  so  with  the  faculties  of  the  mind, 
nothing  but  exercise  can  impart  vigor  and  strength.  Exer- 
cise is  the  parent  of  skill  and  power  every  where;  and  no 
where  more  than  in  writing  and  speaking.  The  words  (  f 
Cicero  should  be  printed  in  capitals  on  the  mind  of  every 
student  of   eloquence;    STILUS    OPTIMUS  ET   praestan- 

TiSblMUS   DICENDI    EFFECTOR    AC     MAGISTEH. 

§  15.  Exercise  in  'lic.toric,  in  older  to  bo  most  bene- 


i-'iiMii: 


'    M 


iiii 


18 


INTKODLCTION. 


ficial,  niusl  be   inlclU^^cU,  systematic,  critical,  an.., 

abundant.  .  . 

4  16  Intelligent  exercise  implies  that  wntins; 
and  spealdag  be  pursued  in  accordance  wrtlr  ibe 
known  rule,  and  principles  of  rhetoric. 

Little  will  be  aoc...>pl.shed  by  bliad  practice  in  any  art 
A  man  may  shout  and  cry,  n.ay  strain  Ins  voice  ever  so 
much  and  make  little  prosress  towards  becoming  a  good 
musician  or  a  good  speaker.  The  practice  must  be  pursued 
with  a  clear,  conscious  knowledge  oF  what  the  art  reii-rires 
And  here  is  seen  the  necessity  of  systems  of  rhetoric;  to  set 
forth  in  a  convenient  form  to  the  learner  the  necessary  prin- 
oiples  of  the  art;-to  teach  him  what  he  is  to  do  in  it. 

^  17  Systematic  exercise  implies  a  regard  to  the 
.specific  functions  or  duties  of  the  writer  or  speaker 
taken  one  by  one  successively  in  regular  order. 

Every  art  combines  within  itself  a  complication  of  man, 
particular  acts;  of  which  in  the  exercise  of  tlie  art  there  are, 
at  dilferent  times,  various  combinations.     The  art  oi  music 
thus  embraces   the  several  functions   of  pitch,  time,  lorce; 
and  each  of  these  particular  functions  may  be  analysed  into 
various  subordinate   particulars.      A   thorough   course  ol 
training  in  this  art  must  proceed  by  a  regular,  successive 
study  of  each  of  tl.e>e  particulars  accompanied  by  a  corre- 
spending  exercise  of  the  voice  in  them.     There  are  thus  a 
great  diversity  of  acts  requisite  in  the  production  ol  a  good 
discourse.     These  particular  acts  may  be  severally  con(en>- 
nlated  by  themselves;  they  may  be  explained  as  to  their  na- 
ture, and  be  prepared  for  exercise  singly  and  successively 
This  systematic  exercise  on  particulars  is  as   requisite  and 
■IS  useful  in  rlietuiic  ns  \:,  iiiiisic. 


% 


critical,  an(t 

that  writinjij 
ce   with    the 

,ce  in  any  art. 

voice  ever  so 
Hiiiug  a  good 
list  be  pursued 
le  art  requires, 
rhetoric;  to  set 
necessary  prin- 
0  do  in  it. 
regard  to  the 
31-  or  speaker 

order. 

cation  of  many 
le  art  there  are, 
le  art  of  music 
ch,  time,  force; 
e  analyzed  into 
)ugh    course  of 
ular,  successive 
ied  by  a  corre- 
here  are  thus  a 
action  of  a  good 
verally  conleiii- 
i  as  to  their  ua- 
nd  successively. 
IS   requisite  and 


llHHroKIC    AN    AESTHETIC    ART.  19 

K  IS  Exercise,  further,  in  order  to  be  most  useful, 
must  be  critical ;  in  other  words,  must  be  subjected  to 
th.  inspection  of  a  teacher  or  of  the  performer  him- 
self, for  the  purpose  of  removing  faults  and  retammg 
quahties  that  are  good. 

The  proper  time  of  cridcism  is  after  the  performance  is 
finished.  To  write  or  to  speak  with  a  constant  reference  to 
criticism  at  the  time,  is  to  impose  on  the  mind  a  double 
labor  or  occupation,  so  that  neither  part  of  the  work  can  be 
done  well.  Such  subseciueat  criticism  is  shown  to  be  neces- 
sary at  once  by  the  consideration,  that,  otherwise,  it  cannot 
be  known  whether  the  work  has  proceeded  aright  or  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  principles  that  should  regulate  it.  It,  also, 
greatly  helps  to  give  the  principle  exemplified  in  the  exercise 
a  practical,  controlling  existence  in  the  mind. 

§  19.  Once  more,  skill  in  rhetoric  cannot  be  attained 
except  by  much  continued  practice. 

No  illustration  is  requisite  to  show  the  correctness  of  this 
principle.  It  may  be  remarked  here,  however,  that  the  labor 
of  writing  should  not  be  pursued  so  constantly  as  to  make 
it  a  drudo-ery,  awakening  no  interest  and  inspiring  no  en- 
thusiasm. 


CHAPTER  III. 

OF    RHETORIC    AS    AN    AESTHETIC    ART. 

§  20.  Inasmuch  as  Discourse  proceeds  necessarily 
in  conformity  with  the  laws  of  Taste,  (§  5.),  Rhet- 
oric is  properlv  regarded  as  an  Aesthetic  Art.* 

~~*  Tl>t'  term  "  Aesthetic  "  is  preferred  to  «  Critical  "  becanse  the 
Uittcr  is  too  exclusively  negative  in  its  import. 


fi  T 


iiii 


20 


INTRODUCTION. 


The  various  a.ts  have  been  aHribu.od  iuto  Uvc,  c.a.es, 
one  of  which  has  been  deuunnuated  I'lco,  Lihe.al,  1  me, 
EWan,  ^c;  the  other.  Mechanical,  Usetul,  &c  Itcc  arts 
are  ho"  i^  which  the  expression  ol'  beanty  or  the  grafhca- 
Uon  f  the  taste  is  the  controlling  end  ol  t  e  prodncl.on  u, 
roceeding;  Mechanical  arts  are  those  in  winch  son.e  other 
Ld   as  of  utility,  controls  the  production. 

There  are  two  arts,  however.  Rhetoric  and  Arch.  cc.     e, 
whi        t  has   been  found  difficult  to  embrace  under  this 
: -fiJation.     Authors  have  dia.red  from  one  aii.     er  in 
assi,.ni„.'  them  their  respective  places  under  ,t.     Ihey  both 
::fan°ead  foreign  to  aesthetics.     Hence  some  have  chased 
them  among  the  unaesthetic  or  mechanical  arts.     But  Oia 
;   and    Architecture    certainly    of    themselves    awaken 
aesthetic  emotions,  and  have  accordingly  an  aesthetic  char- 
a     r;  othe.  writers  have,  therefore,  ranked  them  among  the 
ah  tic  or  elegant  arts.     A  third  class  ot  authors,  to  me- 
dilte  the  controversy,  have  given  them  a  middle  position 

between  the  two. 

But   the  true    issue   is,  have    these   a.ts    essen  al  y    an 
aesthetic  aim,  even  although  jointly  with  another,  that  is   a 
useful  or  mechanical  aim?     Architecture,  certainly,  does  no 
exclusively  respect  a  useful  end.     A  Temple,  a  Dwelling,  i 
not  merely  a  shelter.     It  is  designed  to  affect  the  rnmd  a 
well  as  the  body.     It  is,  in  this  respect,  essentially  diflerent 
from   a  tool,  a  machine,  a  mere  mechanical    instrument. 
Much  more  is  this  aesthetic  character  essential  to  eloquence 
As  designed  to  affect  another  mind,  it  must  affect  it  in  ac- 
cordance   with   its   nature,  that  is,  in   accordance   with  it. 
aesthetic  constitution.    As  expression,  moreover,  of  one  mmd 
to  another,  it  must  bear  the  aesthetic  character  ot  the  com- 
municating mind.     It  is  therefore  essentially  aesthetic  u.  its 
nature,  being  so  distinguished  both  from  its  aim  aud  ir.m 


^"^f. 


RHKTORK)    AN    AKSTIIKTIC    ART. 


21 


,0  two  classes. 
Liberal,  Fine, 
&c.  Free  arts 
»r  the  gratilica- 
3  production  or 
ich  some  otlier 

d  Architecture, 
ace  under   this 
one   another  in 
it.     They  both 
me  have  classed 
irts.     But  Ora- 
iselves    awaken 
aesthetic  char- 
;hem  among  the 
authors,  to  nie- 
middle  position 

essentially    an 
lother,  that  is,  a 
rtainly,  does  not 
e,  a  Dwelling,  is 
ect  the  mind  ap 
entially  different 
ical    instrument, 
tial  to  eloquence 
;  affect  it  in  ac- 
)rdance   with  its 
over,  of  one  mind 
Lcter  of  the  com- 
ly  aesthetic  in  its 
its  aim  and  irvui 


its  origin.  That  it  has  a  foreign  aim  does  not,  in  the  least 
impede  the  aesthetic  procedure.  For  conformity  to  end, 
suitableness,  fitness,  is  itself  an  aesthetic  element. 

Rhetoric,  consequently,  like    architecture,  is  something 
more  than  a  merely  decorative  art,  Avhich  adds  ornament 
to  something  that  is  not  of  it.   If  aesthetic  or  is  perfectly 
adapted  to  its  end  without  being  in  taste.     It  is,  of  its  own 
nature  and  essentially,  an  aesthetic  art;  as  discourse  must 
be  in  accordance  with  principles  of  Taste,  or  it  cannot  be 
perfect  even  in  reference  to  its  end.     Oratory  must,  there- 
fore, of  necessity,  express  beauty  in  order  to  its  perfection. 
i     This  cannot  be  said  of  a  tool,  a  machine,  a  product  of  any 
I     mechanical  art. 
M        §  21.  Discourse,  as  aestheiic  in  its  nature,  freely 

admits  all  the  various  elements  of  Beauty. 
A        These  elements  are  reducible  to  three,  viz  :  Abso- 
lute Beaut ij,  Grace,  and  Propriety. 

The  various  elements  of  Beauty  are  either  inherent  in  the 
object  itself  or  depend  on  its  relations.  All  inherent  beauty 
is  either  absolute,  that  is,  permanent  and  inseparable  from 
the  object,  or  accidental  and  contingent.  The  permanent  is 
denominated  Absolute  Beauty;  the  accidental  or  contin- 
gent, Grace. 

Relative  Beauty,  or  Beauty  depending  on  relations 
merely,  is  denominated  Propriety.  We  have  thus  the  fol- 
lowing definitions. 

Absolute  beauty  is  that  element  which  lies  in  some 

;    fixed  property  of  a  beautiful  object.     Thus  the  brightness  of 

the  rainbow,  the  clearness  and  stillness  of  a  meadow  stream, 

the  fresh  verdure  of  spring,  are  instances  of  absolute  beauty, 

Grace  is  that  element  of  beauty  which  lies  in  motion,  or 
io  repose,  the  effect  of  previous  motion.     The  undulations  **f 


■ 


:.    i 


i'l 


M 


\i 


■ 


i  I 


11' 


I'tl 


HI 

ll 


22 


INTROOI'CTION. 


,  ,       ,   „  ..Irvfid  bv  a  sentle  breeze,  ihe  easy  gambolings 
:.':  :,S     it      f-'  .Cics  or  sup^le  ..fancy,  are 

the  violet  conceived  of  as  nature's  penc.lmg,  the  easy  com 
p„su4  of  an  infant's  Ihnbs  in  sleep,  are  .nstances  of  the 

::ttirt;2a:trspooi«c  elements  of  B^^^ 
formity,  harmony,  symmetry,  proportion  and  the  hke.       ^ 

5  32.  ABS0Lt,TE  B..VTV  appears  in  discourse  m 
thesuUject,  the  form  of  development  of  the  subject  or 
any  suborditiate  titought,  and  also  ui  the  .manner  of 

expression. 

1    The  subject  itself  of  the  discourse  may  often  reveal 
.esthetic  beauty.      Thus  in  Biography,  a  noble  or  lovely 
leer  of  itse'lf  stirs  our  admiration,  and  i-P"'3  a-    e Uc 
pleasure.     The  biographer  whose  very  subject  rs  a  cha^cter 
ile,  corrupt  or  depraved,  labors  under  a  constant  d-ffiulty-- 
so  far  as  the  gra.ilication  of  taste  rs  an  "bj-t  "f  h.s  wo  k. 
In  History,  such  subjects  as  the  Retreat  of  the  fen  Thou- 
sand, the  Roman  Republic,  the  German  I^f''™'*"^ 
in  themselves  admirable.      The  orations  ol    Demosthenes 
against  Philip,  aiming  at  the  independence  and  freedom  of 
the  Grecian  States,  possess  intrinsic  be.uty  in  their  subject. 
That  of  Cicero  pro  Cluentio,  admirable  as  it  is,  yet  has  to 
contend  with  the  ditficulties  of  a  subject  in  itself  repulsive. 
In  fictitious  composition,  the  subject  is  at  the  choice  of 
the  writer;  and  in  his  selection  he  has  the  opportunity  of 
displaying  the  elevation  and  correctness  of  his  taste.     This 
principle  will  determine,  very  justly,  the  relative  character 
and  merits  of  the  fictitious  writings  of  Sir  Walter  Scott  and 


■■■» 

1 
■V. 


'"J: 


RHETORIC     AN    AESTHKTIC    ART. 


23 


Y  gambolings 

infancy,  are 

blending  of 

aie  easy  com- 

tances  of  the 

ject,  and  con- 
ition  of  these 
f  fitness,  con- 
the  like, 
discourse  in 
he  subject  or 
3  manner  of 

y  often  reveal 
loble  or  lovely 
nparts  aesthetic 
t  is  a  cha'-acter 
ant  difficulty— 
ct  of  his  work. 

the  Ten  Thou- 
.eformation,  are 
f  Demosthenes 
md  freedom  of 
in  their  subject, 
it  is,  yet  has  to 

itself  repulsive. 
it  the  choice  of 
I  opportunity  of 

his  taste.  This 
elative  character 
Walter  Scott  and 


of  those  of  the  late  French  school.      How  etherial  and  pure 
are  some  of  the  writings  of  the  Germans  in  this  department 

of  composition ! 

2.  The  development  of  the  theme  in  discourse  may  also 
contain  this  element  of  beauty.  There  is  a  singular  beauty 
in  the  following  plan  of  a  discourse  by  Dr.  Sprague,*  as 
thus  announced  in  the  partition.  ''  The  Christian  does  not 
desire  to  live  alway,  because  he  prefers 

Perfect  light  to  comparative  darkness; 
Immaculate  purity  to  partial  sanctification; 
Immortal  strength  to  earthly  weakness; 
Cloudless  serenity  to  agitating  storms; 
The  fellowship  of  the  glorified  to  the  society  of  the  im- 
perfect; 
The  honors  of  victory  to  the  perils  of  warfare.*' 

3.  In  the  manner  of  expression^  this  element  of  beauty 
may  also  very  generally  be  exhibited.     In  the  selection  of 
his  images,  by  the  purity  of  his  sentiments,  and  the  refine- 
ment of  his  associations  as  evinced  in  his    style,  there  is 
wide  room  furnished  to  the  writer  fo:  the  exhibition  of  a 
cultivated  and  elegant  taste.     The  orations  of  Demosthenes, 
of  Chatham,  and  of  Henry,  abound  thus  in  expressions  of 
lofty  sentiments  of  patriotism  and  indignation  at  oppression 
which  impart  a  peculiar  beauty  to  their  eloquence. 

§  23.  Grace  may  appear  in  the  subject  itself,  or 
in  the  working  of  the  speaker's  mind  in  conceiving 
and  representing  the  particular  thoughts  of  the  dis- 
course. 

The  subject  may  possess  in  itself  the  element  of  aesthetic 
grace,  so  far  as  it  admits  of  motion  or  change.  Living 
objects  and  such  as  are  sub^  ict  to  the  influence  of  causes  of 

•  National  Preacher,  Vol.  i3,i3.  129. 


tl 


iMiii 


INI'KUKl'C'riON. 


■iuies  witicli  adroit 


,nykiad,pli)siculorsiiiriwul,iW... 

"^  u7o  particular  thoushts  and  sentin.ente  of  the  discourse, 
ako,  as  well  as  in  the  .tvle  geuerally,  grace  appears  so  for 
as  iL  mind  of  the  speaker  is  exhibited  mov.ng  ireely  ru  .ts 
conceptions  and  its  representations.  In  the  ready  apprehen- 
sion  of  the  subject,  the  discovery  and  use  ol  arguments  and 
illustrations,  the  easy  and  natural  expression  ot  sentiments 
in  kind  and  degree  appropriate  to  the  occasion-whenever  ■■> 
these  there  is  exercised  freedom,  skill,  dexterity,  grace  may 
appear.     For  grace  is  but  the  expression  of  power  working 

frc6iv»  1  •  1 

The  parables  of  our  Savior  reveal  this  element  to  a  high 
de-^ree  in  the  richness  and  freeness  of  the  illustrative  im- 

'^The  sermons  of  Jeremy  Taylor  ^  rnish,  also,  a  happy 
illustration  of  this  species  of  grace.  Macaulay  exhibits  this 
element  in  his  style  generally.  The  expression  flows  with 
an  ease  and  a  finish  that  exhibits  great  power  and  freeness 
in  representation. 

§  24.  Rhetorical  Propriety  appears  in  the 
speaker's  selection  of  his  subject,  as  well  as  also  in 
the  development  of  it  and  in  the  style  of  expression, 

so  far  as  they  are  conformed  to  what  is  required  by 

the  occasion,  the  laws  of  thought  and  the  principles  of 

discourse. 

The  writings  of*  Leighton,  of  Addison,  and  of  Irving, 

pesso&s  this  element  of  beauty  in  a  high  degree. 


i 


i;li!i!'ilii 


I  wliich  adroit 

the  discourse, 
appears  so  far 
g  freely  in  its 
ady  apprelien- 
Lrguments  and 
of  sentiments 
— whenever  in 
ity,  grace  may 
>ower  working 

nent  to  a  high 
Uustrative  im- 

also,  a  happy 
ly  exhibits  this 
iion  flows  with 
sr  and  freeness 

pears  in  the 
ill  as  also  in 
of  expression, 
s  required  by 
e  principles  of 

and  of  Irving, 


jree. 


KINDS    OF    DISCOURSE. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


25 


OF    DISCOURSE    AND    ITS    KINDS. 

§  25.  Discourse,  as  the  communication  of  thought, 
imphes  at  once  and  necessarily,  in  its  primary  and 
complete  signification,  a  speaker  and  a  hearer; — a 
speaker,  who  in  speaking  seeks  to  produce  a  certain 
effect  in  the  mind  of  the  hearer. 

This  effect  is  primarily  in  the  intelligence  or  under- 
standing of  the  hearer ;  and  secondarily  and  conse- 
quentially in  the  feehngs  and  the  will. 

§  20.  Oratory,  therefore,  or  address,  is  the  proper 
form  of  discourse  in  its  strictest  and  fullest  import.  It 
constitutes,  accordingly,  the  immediate  object  of  rhet- 
oric. 

The  very  nature  of  discourse,  thus,  marks  out  the  field  of 
'  rhetoric  as  the  art  of  discourse;  and,  determines  in  what 
light  the  art  should  regard  other  so  called  forms  of  discourse, 
as  history,  essay,  and  the  like.     These  are,  strictly  speak- 
ing, abnormal  forms  of  discourse;  and  want  some  element 
'*  which  is  to  be  found  in  propftr  oratory.     Rhetoric,  in  the 
.  unfolding  of  its  principles,  should  confine  its  view  to  ora- 
-  tory,  therefore,  not  only  because  oratory  is  the  only  pure 
■'  form  of  discourse,  but,  also,  because  in  unfolding  the  prin- 
ciples of  oratory,  it  at  the  same  time  unfolds  the  main  prin- 
ciples of  the  other  derived  forms  of  discourse.     It  is  only 
fro  i  considerations  of  expediency  and  not  of  philosophical 
accuracy  that  general  rhetoric  embraces  any  of  these  abnor- 
mal species.     At  least,  it  has  fulfilled  its  oifice  when  it  has 
indicated  the  distinction  between  pure  discourse  or  oratory, 
and  the  several  irregular  forms,  and  thereby  made  known 


I 


* 


i  ! 


.t^(t.| 


§  27.  Tlie  primary  a.ul  tb.u  ^^^^ 

'"  '"    a  .d  ie  ahn  on  the  part  of  the  former  to  pro- 
ra— e^ectontUernindoftUelat.. 

Whenever,  acco«.  this  oppo^uon:^^^^^^ 

0.  speaker,  his  diseourse  ^^^^^Jlll^  „f  discourse 

IS  THE  lUGiiESi   LAW  the  most  part,  to  Single 

^''''°t•^:rl:sT:-^^^^^^^ 

out  the  particular  forms        e  p  ^^^^  ^^^^ 

'°r-"^iirtx  ".:::« ro;h„::  the —se 

oratorical  spirii  wui 

and  give  to  the  whole  a  P-"''- ^J   ™  ;       3i„„3  that  cau 

There  are,  however,  so.ne  f^'^'^Jl^,,,,,,^  .•„„ 

,e  na^ed  by  which  or-y     J^        ^ ,.^^  „°  .,,,  ;„  ,„e 

the  essay.      Oratory,  hualway         ^^^^^^  ^^^.^^  ^,_^  ^,^^ 

forms  of  fme  and  »      "  ^P     J^^,^  ,,,,„,  ^as  preceded  e, 

of  the  adverbs  of  pla  e  to  des^  ^^^^^  ^^^^_ 

is  to  follow,  and  uses  the  e  o   t.me.        ^^  ^^^^^  ^^^ 

thus,  "  what  I  have  sa.d  a  ov«     b„t     w  ,,  ^ 

iefore  •"  the  essayist  does  the  reverse,     i  ne  .- 

J^utt;:::  the  assembly,  and  does  nt,t^^^^ 
identify  himself  _with  «■•->--.       t,eM^_^  P  ^_^^ 


^ 
^ 


■4 


pronouns,  "  ivti, 


>}   <i 


our, 


&c. 


KrSDS    OF     DlfifOUKiHi:. 


27 


avvs  of  proper 

ractenstlc  of 
;  of  discourse 
f  speaker  and 
former  to  pro- 
latter. 

lost  sight  of  hy 
,ry.     It  falls  at 
m  of  discourse 
1  oratory  or  ad- 
liearer;  and  re- 
scourse.     Tins 

St  part,  to  single 
liich  proper  ora- 
LY,  still  the  true 
,ut  the  discourse 

ressions  that  can 
stinguished   from 
es  of  itself  in  the 
ce  avoids  the  use 
thas  preceded  or 
orator  never  says, 
what  I  have  said 
[le  orator  says^  "I 
ler  on,"  &c. 
of  himself  as  the 
CCS  not,  therefore, 
J  use  of  the  plural 
thervvise  in  puhl>« 


prayer;  i!  is  otherwise,  also,  with  the  essayist.  Tht  essay- 
ist merely  expresses  or  utters  forth  without  the  distinct  idea 
of  a  listener,  thouglits  or  sentiments  which  he  regards  as 
common  to  himself  and  the  reader.  The  distinct  person- 
ality being  dropped,  the  use  of  the  plural  becomes  easy  and 
natural.  Hence,  probably,  the  ''we''  of  editors  and  critics. 
They  express  not  personal  but  common  convictions  and  sen- 
timents. 

§  28.  Of  the  derived  species  of  Discourse,  two  kinds 
are  distinguishable  ;  one  which  drops  from  oratory  only 
the  idea  of  o  present  hearer,  as  Epistolary  Composi- 
tioii ;  the  other,  which  drops  also  the  idea  of  a  direct 
effect  on  another  mind,  as  Representative  Discourse 
■  generally. 

I  §  29.  Epistolary  Composition,  as  it  diflers  from 
i  proper  Oratory  only  in  the  circumstance  that  it  ad- 
dresses an  absent  mind,  conforms  more  closely  than 
other  derived  species  to  the  principles  of  Rhetoric.  Its 
chief  peculiarity  lies  in  its  not  contemplating  vocal 
delivery. 

It  will  be  remarked  that  while  epistolary  composition 
more  frequently  respects  a  single  mind,  proper  oratory  re- 
spects more  commonly  a  multitude.  At  least,  oratory  rises 
to  its  highest  perfection  when  addressed  to  a  large  assembly; 
for  then  the  moral  elevation,  which  is  the  proper  soul  of 
oratory,  is  highest.  But  epistolary  composition,  when  ad-, 
dressed  to  multitudes,  rises  to  high  degrees  of  eloquence;  as 
is  seen  in  the  epistles  of  the  Apostle  PauL 

When  the  epistolary  form  is  adopted  for  the  form's  sake, 
it  then  falls  into  the  rank  of  mere  Representative  Discourse. 

§  30.  Representative  Discourse,  so  far  as  it 


I 


ii, 


QQ  INTUOUUCTION. 

,,iver,e.s  from  ixropor  oratory  in  dropping  tbo  opposi 
Sa  of  speaker  aud  hearer,  has  for  its  highest  law,  the 
representation  of  its  theme  for  its  own  sake. 

A'.  Representative  Discourse,  as  such,  accordn.gly, 
bas  for  itl  controUing  principle,  the  follown.g,  viz: 

That  the  thought  be  represented  in  its  utmost  clear- 
ness, accuracy  and  completeness. 

§  31    We  have,  thus,  the  characteristics  of  the  sev- 
eral divisions  of  Discourse,  includmg  Poetry. 

Poetry  represents  for  the  sake  of  the  form ; 

Representative  Discourse  represents  for  the  sake  of 

the  theme  itself; 

Oratory  represents  for  the  sake  of  the  effect  on  an- 

other  mind.  ,        •     -o 

In  Poetry,  accordingly,  tlu  form  rules ;  m  Repre- 
sentative Discourse,  the  matter ;  in  Oratory,  tbe  ex- 

terior  aim. 

The  intimacv    and    relationship  between   these   several 
forms  of  represeutatioa  in  language  are  iu  thi^  view  clearly 
indicated.     The  intrinsic  dependence   of  the   form   on  the 
matter,  the  common  attributes  of  the  mind  that  addresses 
and  of  the  mind  that  is  addressed,  and  their  common  relation- 
ship to  truth  as  the  matter  of  discourse,  shew  at  once  how 
large  a  field  is  common  to  all  these  arts.     Particul-uly,  is  it 
8Pen  how  slight  are  the  modifications  which  an  art  of  repre- 
.  senlative  discourse  requires  in  the  principles  of  proper  ora- 
tory.     Indeed,  these  modifications  are,  in  the  main,  such  as 
cannot   well   be   set  forth  in   distinct    forms  of  language. 
See  §  27. 

§  32.  Representative  Discourse  is  either  Pure  or 
Mixed. 


KIN  us    OF    iXSCOrUcTi. 


)i9 


lIjo  opposi 
!St  law,  the 

• 

ccordingly, 
ig,  viz : 

imost  clcar- 
of  the  sev- 


m; 

the  sake  of 


ffect  on  an- 

;  in  Repre- 
)ry,  the  ex- 

theso   several 
3  view  clearly 

form  on  the 
that  addresses 
inion  relation- 
V  at  once  how 
rticul'irly:,  is  it 
u  art  of  repre- 
of  proper  ora- 
main,  such  as 

of  language. 

ler  PiTUE  or 


It  IS  pure  when  its  theme  is  represented  irrespect- 
ively of  personal  modifications,  and,  accordingly,  in  its 
own  proper  character. 

It  is  mixed,  when  it  is  represented  as  modified  by 
the  peculiarities  of  personal  apprehensions  and  convic- 
tions. 

The  Epicurean  by  Moore  is  an  exemplification  of  tht 
mixed  form  of  representative  discourse,  in  which  but  on. 
mind  is  introduced  by  whose  personal  characteristics  th. 
representation  is  modifi"ed.  Ancient  life  is  in  it  represented 
through  the  experience  of  another,  not  from  the  direct  per- 
ceptions of  the  author. 

Wliere  two  or  more  persons  are  introduced,  tlie  discourse 
is  called  a  Dialogue.  The  Dialogues  of  Plato,  of  Fon- 
teuelle,  of  Berkeley,  are  exemplifications  of  this  variety. 

§  33.  The  highest  law  of  Mixed  -Representative 
Discourse  is,  that  the  personal  characteristics  of  the 
speakers  introduced,  so  far  as  modifying  the  theme,  be 
carefully  exhibited  throughout  the  representation. 

The  Dialogues  of  Plato  are  the  most  perfectly  constructed 
specimens  of  the  Dialogue,  perhaps,  that  exist,  so  far  a» 
this  first  law  of  the  discourse  is  regarded. 

If  the  representation  be  for  the  sake  of  the  form,  the  dis- 
course becomes  Poetry.  We  have,  then,  the  Monchgtie 
when  but  one  person  is  introduced;  and  the  poetic  Dialogue^ 
when  more  than  one  are  exhibited.  If  the  representation 
exhibits  an  action,  it  becomet:  Dramatic. 

\  34.  Of  the  Pure  Representative  Discourse,  several 
varieties  are  distinguished  according  to  the  character 
of  the  subjcc*,  as 

History,  the  subject  of  which  is  some  fact  or  event, 

3* 


■ 


30 


iNTiiontH^rioN. 


;.,  n-it.iro  as  Natural  Hhtonj, 
sin<He  or  coiUiimous,  lu  naiuic,  as 

J:of:t^,ap,OS.uui".f-.„fa..cir,cd.a,acCe. 

.,  individual  experience  for  its  subject^ 

,),!:rTlT.ON,  ,l.e.ul,jec.of  wl.iclus«,„.e  futl.,  not 

meic  fact  as  is  tlic  case  in  History- 

It  is  to  be  remarked  re.specling  the  Pure  llepros.ulaUve 

Di      urse,  tlrat  it  easily  a,l,„i..  the  proper  .U.t.ngur.lang 

d    ncteristic  of  pure  ora.ory-the  opposition  of  speaker  aud 

St  so  "far  as  it  does  this,  .he  full  forn.  of  oratory 

11,-  so  far,  at  least,  as  address  to  a  locally  absent  „,ind 

'■        hnv      It  is  not  rrnnatural,  thus,  that  the  h.storrau 

:l:his"ry  03  an  addressing  n,ind,  and  uses  tl.  forms 

"address.  As,  however,  the  hlea  of  represon..„g  the  acts 
.istory  for  their  own  sake  and  not  lor  the  sake  o  e 
,„„,.al  eireot  en  other  minds  begins  to  rule  m  h.s  m.nd,  t^. 
oratorical  forms,  as  those  of  the  first  person,  of  tnne  tn- 
stead  of  space,  fall  away,  and  the  discourse  approaches  to 
tlie  character  of  the  pure  representative. 

^  35  Pbopeu  Oratorical  Discourse  may  be 
distributed  into  different  kinds  on  either  of  two  differ- 
ent principles,  g.ving  rise  thus  to  two  distinct  sets  or 

One  principle  of  distribution  is  found  in  the  specific 
character  of  tht^  ultimate  end  of  discourse. 

The  other  is  found  in  the  specific  character  of  the 
immediate  end  of  discourse 


KI>:i»H    OF    l»»SCOTJUSR. 


31 


al  Hlntonj, 

cts  ill  uuM- 

:\iic  clepart- 
fic  character 

e  Essay  or 
,ie  truth,  not 

leprese  Illative 
listinguisliing 
)f  sjjcaker  and 
nil  of  oratory 
y  absent  mind 

the  historian 
uses  the  forms 
:iting  the  facts 
le  sake  of  the 

his  mind,  the 
a,  of  time  in- 
approaches  to 

RSE  may  be 
of  two  diirer- 
stinct  sets  or 

in  the  specific 

•se. 

aracter  of  the 


§  3r,.  T\w  uliiinato  end  of  all  proper  oratory  being 
nion.l  ill  iis  ch;iract.u-  §  3,  there  may  be  three  diller- 
ent  khids  of  discourse  according  as  one  or  another 
of  the  three  ditferent  forms  or  phases  of  the  moral 
element,  viz:  the  right,  the  good,  and  the  beautiful  or 
noble  in  character,  governs  in  the  discourse. 

The  tlu-ee  forms  of  oratory  thus  given  arc  thk 

JUDICIAL,  THE  DELIBERATIVE  ami  THE  SACRED. 

These  denominations  are  derived  from  the  fields  in  which 
the  several  kinds  of  oratory  respectively  predominate.  It 
nmst  not  be  inferred  from  the  names  that  the  species  are  con  ■ 
lined  to  the  respective  fields  from  which  the  name  is  taken; 
that  the  species  of  oratory,  for  instance,  in  which  the  i(k'a 
(,r  right  is  the  governing  idea  of  the  discourse,  is  confined 
to  the  Bar.  The  name  in  each  class  is  taken  from  the  prin- 
cipal species  in  each. 

§  37.  Judicial  Oratory  has  the  idea  of  the  right 
for  its  governing  idea.  Its  chief  province  is  foimd  in 
the  proceedings  of  Civil  Judicature. 

§  3S.  Deliberative  Oratory  has  the  idea  of 
tht'  good  for  its  governing  idea.  It  is  chiefly  found  in 
Legislative  Assemblies. 

Whenever  measures,  moreover,  are  urged  on  the  grounds 
of  their  expediency  or  tendency  to  promote  the  well  being 
of  men,  there  is  found  proper  deliberative  oratory.  Parlia- 
mentary eloquence  is  but  one,  though  the  most  common  and 
familiar  variety. 

§  39.  Sacred  Oratory  has,  for  its  governing 
idea,  the  lovely  in  character.  It  seeks  to  eiTect  the 
perfect  in  character  and  is  chiefly  found  in  the  pulpit. 

Under  this  class  is  comprehended  the  panegyric,  eulogis- 


I 


3:i 


TNTROULCTION. 


tic  or  eiMdiclio  cliscoufse.  Only  the  lower  var.ehcs  of  th,a 
dass  «1  kuowu  to  tl,e  ancients.  The  h.gher  spec.e,  .s 
given  in  its  perfection  only  with  chlistiamty. 

^  40  Discourse,  distributed  in  reference  to  the  spe- 
cifl  character  of  its  immediate  end,  comprehends  he 
i  classes  of  Explanatory,  Argumentattve,  Pathefc. 
and  Persuasive. 

The  above  classification  is  founded  on  the  several  imme- 
diatc  ends  of  discourse  as  enumerated,  $  54. 


Ill 


CHAPTER  V. 

OF   THE    DIVISIONS    OP    RHETORIC. 

N  41  Rhetoric,  as  the  Art  of  constructing  Discourse, 
Jbraces  two  processes  which  are  m  many  respects 
distinct  from  each  other.  The  one  consists  m  ho 
provision  of  the  thought  embracing  feehng  and  the 
moral  state  in  its  proper  form,  and  is  founded  mainly 
on  Logic.  The  other  consists  in  the  provision  ot  the 
appropriate  language,  and  rests  mainly  on  Gmmmar 
as  its  foundation. 

The  two  great  divisions  of  the  art  of  Rhetoric,  ac- 
cordingly, are  Invention  and  Style. 

In  many  of  the  most  popular  treatises  on  Rhetoric  in  the 
Eno-lish  language,  the  first  of  these  processes,  invention,  hus 
been  almost  entirely  excluded  from  view.  Several  caus.a 
may  be  assigned  for  this  deviation  from  the  nmUm. 
Hiethod  of  the  ancient  rhetoricians.  The  mo.t  impurtu  .. 
one  would  seem  to  be  the  neglect  iato  which  logic  has  tulle., 


irieties  of  thia 
;her  species  ia 

ce  to  the  spe- 
sprehends  the 
ive,  Pathetic, 

several  imme- 


)RIC. 

ing  Discoui-se, 
naiiy  respects 
;onsists  in  the 
eUng  and  the 
lunded  mainly 
rovision  of  the 
jr  on  Grammar 

ii  Rhetoric,  ac- 

1  Rhetoric  in  tlie 
!S,  invention^  bus 

Several  caust'S 
m   the    unifdn!! 

moat  iniportu  .1 
\  h<Ac  has  fulliM. 


DIVISIONS    OF    RHKTOKIC.  33 

at   least,  the    discordant   and   unsettled    views  of  English 

writers.  ,         ,        .    ,     . 

Another  cause  is  the  change  that  has  taken  place  m  ogi- 
cal  science  since  the  times  of  the  Grecian  and  Roman  rheto- 
ricians,  which  renders  their  systems  of  rhetorical  invention, 
founded  as  they  ^vere,  to  a  great  extent,  on  their  peculiar 
logical  views,  inapplicable  to  present  modes  of  thought. 
Their  system  of  topics  is,  thus,  for  this  and  other  rea- 
sons,  wholly  unsuitcd  to  our  times. 

The  art  of  invention,  moreover,  is  more  essentially  modi- 
fied  than  style  by  the  particular  department  of  oratory  or 
.the  kind  of  discourse  to  which  it  is  applied.  Hence  the 
ancient  systems  of  invention  which  were  constructed  in 
strict  reference  to  the  modes  of  spe'aking  then  prevalent,  are 
ill-adapted  to  present  use.  Tiie  systems  of  Cicero  and 
Quintilian,  for  example,  are  for  the  most  part  illustrated 
from  the  peculiar  practice  of  the  Roman  bar.  Modern 
writers  on  rhetoric,  in  following  the  great  ancient  masters  m 
the  art,  have  lience  been  reduced  to  this  alternative,— either 
of  leaving  out  entirely  this  part  of  the  science,  or  of  con- 
structing an  entirely  new  system.  They  have,  for  the  most 
part,  in  the  English  language  at  least,  decided  on  the  for- 
mer branch  of  the  alternative,  and  have  generally  excluded 
almost  entirely  from  their  works,  the  consideration  of  In- 
vention. 

The  perversion  and  abuse  of  ancient  systems  in  the 
schools  of  the  middle  ages  have  undoubtedly  further  con- 
tributed to  bring  this  branch  of  rhetorical  science  into  dis- 
repute and  neglect. 

It  cannot,  however,  be  doubted  on  a  candid  consideration 
of  the  matter  that  invention  must  constitute  the  very  life  of 
an  art  of  rhetoric.  It  respects  the  soul  and  substance  of 
discourse—the  thought  which  is  communicated.     Quintiliaa 


1 


I  « fc 


iiiii;,  ;J 


INTRO  nUGTION. 

justly     savs,     <'in^.nire  primun^   f-^t^^^f^  ^-^^^ 
LL.i:'     It  is  in  invention  that  the  mind  of  the  learner 
is  most  easily  interested;  most  capable  of  sensible  improve- 
..ent.     It  is  next  to  impossible  to  awaken  a  hearty  in  erest 
i.  .nere  style   independeut  of  the    thought;  as    the  tutile 
attempts  to  teach  the  art  of  composition  as  a  mere  thing  of 
verl^al   expression    have   proved.      Composing   when    thus 
tau..ht  must  necessarily  be  regarded  as  a  drudgery  and  be 
shunned  instinctively  with  strong  aversion.     It  is  otherwise 
when  the  thought  is  the  main  thing  regarded.     There  as  to 
every   mind   a   pure    and  elevated  pleasure  in  inventing, 
-here  is  a  pleasure  in  expressing  thoughts  that  have  sprung 
intobeino-  from  one^s  own  creative  intellect;  of  embodying 
them  in  Appropriate  forms  of  language.     How  dillerent  are 
the  feelings  with  which  a  school  boy  contemplates  the  task 
of    writing   a  composition   which  must   contain    so   many 
words,  whatever   be  true  of  the  ideas,  and  the    work   of 
writing  a  letter  to  express  some  conviction  of  his  own  mind, 
some  wish,  some  intelligence  ?     It  cannot  be  questioned  that 
it  is  to  the  exclusion  of    invention  from  our   systems    of 
rhetoric  that  the  neglect  into  which  the  art  has  fallen  is 
chielly  to  be  ascribed.     The  prejudices  against  it  are  also 
mainly  to  be  attributed  to  this  defective  and  incorrect  view 
of  the  art.* 


*  It  is  worthy  of  note  tli.it  the  most  popular  system  of  rlietoric 
now  in  use  in  the  L.dish  language,  that  of  Dr.  Whately,  owes 
nearly  all  its  excellence  and  its  reputation  as  an  original  work  to 
the  circumstance  that  it  embraces,  in  the  First  Part,  a  brici  and 
imperfect  view  of  this  branch  of  the  Science. 


ill 


IQlJE     PKAE- 

of  the  leiirner 
lible  improve- 
learty  interest 
as  tlie  futile 
mere  thing  of 
J-  when  thus 
jgery  and  be 
[t  is  otherwise 
There  \is  to 
in  inventing. 
,t  have  sprung 
of  embodying 
V  dill'erent  are 
latcs  the  task 
lain    so   many 

the  work  of 
his  own  mind, 
[uestioned  that 
ir   systems    of 

has  fallen  is 
nst  it  are  also 
incorrect  view 


atem  of  rlietoric 

Whately,  owes 

)riginal  work  to 

art,  a  brici  and 


•■1 


FIRST    GENERAL    DIVISION 


INVENTION. 


GENERAL    VIEW. 
CHAPTER  I. 

OF  THE  NATURE  AND  PARTS  OF  INVENTION. 

§  42,  Rhetorical  Invention  13  the  art  of  supplying 
the  requisite  thought  in  kind  and  form  for  discourse. 

§  43.  It  embraces  Invmtion  Prope?'  or  the  mere 
supply  of  the  thought,  and  Arrangemeni  or  Disposi 
Hon. 

The  propriety  of  regarding  arrangement  as  a  part  of  the 
process  of  invention  may   be  seen  from   several  points  of 

view. 

In  the  first  place^  the  principle  of  division  that  has  been 
adopted,  by  which  rhetoric  is  regarded  as  embracing  the  two 
principles  of  in'oention  or  the  supply  of  thought,  and  of  the 
exprefiaion  of  thought  in  language  or  style,  at  once  compels 


H'll 


[i' 


M       'Hi 


f|    I: 


itiiiit 


1«  < 


30 


i,NVi:.\Ti<»>i. 


.        f  nf  arraaoeuieut.     The  two  elements  of 
to    this  treatn^eut  of  «^^-oe  ^^^  ^^^^^^^ 

U.ught  and  ^^f^l^:^'^^,,.     It  would  be  unphi- 
loscphical  to  mtrodu  disposition  or  arranges 

t)..  nrocess  of  invention  cannot  proceed  but  by 

tfore  include  a  mo«  or  le»s  definite  regard  to  the  a. 
a         en..     I.  becomes  necessary,  thus,  to  treat  of  arrang^ 
rr:  disposition,  so  fa,  as  it  can  be  distinctly  treated  o. 
as  a  subordinate  and  constituent  part  of  invention. 

The  same  observations,  obviously,  are  applicable  to  uietli- 

od  in  style.  . 

^  44  The  process  of  invention  is  applied  either  to 
the  general  theme  or  topic  of  the  discourse,  or  to  the 
partLar  thoughts  by  meai.  of  which  that  general 
Theme  is  presented  to  the  mind  addressed  for  the  pur- 
pose  of  accomplishing  the  object  of  the  discourse. 

M5  The  general  theme  or  topic  of  discourse  is 
sometimes  given  or  furnished  in  a  more  or  less  definite 
form  to  the  spaker  or  writer;  sometimes  is  wholly 
left  to  his  free  choice, 

In  the  eloquence  of  the  bar  and  af  the  Senate,  the  topics 
of  discussion  are  determined  beforehand  for  the  most  part 
to  the  speaker.  Even  here,  however,  there  is  much  room 
for  the  exercise  of  invention.  The  particular  theme  proposed 
is  to  be  taken  up  into  the  mind  of  the  speaker;  it  is  to  be 
shaped  to  his  habit  of  thought;  it  i.  to  be  defined  and  deter- 
mined so  as  best  to  meet  his  particular  purpose  in  discussing 
it-  it  is  to  be  suited  to  the  particuhir  circumstances  in  which 
bJ  speaks  and  to  the  mode  iu  which  he  shall  deter««ine  to 


t 


PAKTS    OF    INVENTION. 


37 


elements  of 
Lial  elements, 
luld  be  unpbi- 
ivision,  which 
m  or  arraugt>- 
jf  rhetoric, 
•oceed  but  by 
thought  must 
rd  to  the  ar- 
eat  of  arrange- 
;tly  treated  oi" 
Qtion. 
Lcable  to  meth- 

iied  either  to 
rse,  or  to  the 
that  general 
i  for  the  pur- 
iscourse. 
f  discourse  is 
)r  less  definite 
aes  is  wholly 

nate,  the  topics 
the  most  part 
is  much  room 
theme  proposed 
ker ;  it  is  to  be 
fined  and  deter- 
ise  in  discussing 
stances  in  uhicli 
dl  determine  to 


handle  it.  The  same  question  will  thus  be  stated  in  very 
different  forms  by  different  speakers;  and  no  small  degree 
of  oratorical  skill  is  often  displayed  in  the  mode  of  conceiv- 
ing and  presenting  the  particular  subject  of  debate.  The 
same  observations  are  applicablje  to  every  species  of  dis- 
course or  composition  where  the  subject  is  proposed  to  the 
speaker  or  writer. 

Where  the  subject  is  left  to  the  free  choice  of  the  speaker, 
there  is  room  for  a  still  higher  display  of  inventive  power.' 
It  is  with  the  orator  or  writer  as  with  the  sculptor  or 
painter.  The  subject  itself  shows  the  genius  of  the  artist. 
The  subject  is  left  thus  free  to  a  considerable  extent  in  the 
eloquence  of  the  pulpit,  as  well  as  in  most  occasional  ad- 
dresses, in  essays  and  other  compositions. 

§  46.  The  particular  subordinate  thoughts  by  which 
the  general  theme  is  developed  and  presented  to  the 
mind  addressed,  while  tliey  must  all  lie  in  the  field  of 
the  general  theme  and  must  likewise  consist  with  the 
object  of  the  discourse,  are,  with  these  limitations, 
open  to  the  choice  of  the  speaker. 

As  a  rational  discourse  necessarily  implies  a  unity,  this 

unity  must  be  in  the  singleness  of  the  theme  and  of  the  oh» 

ject  of    the  discourse,  ($  56).     Accordingly  all  thoughts 

1  introduced  must  stand  in  a  subordinate  relation  to  this  single 

*■  theme,  and,  also,  to  this  single  object.     Hence  the  principle, 

,  which  admits  of  no  exception  in  rational  discourse,  that  no 

*thouffhts  DO  introduced  that  do  not  both  consist  with  the 

/theme  and  the  object  and,  also,  tend  to  develop  the  one  and 

I  accomplish  the  other. 

V      While,  thus,  the  subordinate  and  developing  thoughts  must 
all  be  found  in  the  field  of  ths  one  general  theme,  and  of 
:  these  only  such  can  be  taken  as  consist  with  the  object  of 
*■  4 


;    fllj 


!■!    ill 


INVENTION. 

.,, .    ix,,,e  limits  there  is  free  range  for  in- 
the  discourse;  withm  these  subordinate 

vention.     Tho  ^^^^^^^^^^.^^^^^^^    cental  furniture  pos- 

thoughts  will  ^^^:^  ,e  has  over  this  stock  of 
sessed  by  the  speaker,  tne  ^^^^.^^  ^^  .^^^^_ 

tbought,  and  the  « j^^l^^^         exhibit  the  sound- 
lion.     The  selection  out  o^h     st^  ^^^  ,^  ,,, 

ness  and  promptness  of  his  judgme 
of  steadily  pursuing  his  object. 


CHAPTER  n. 

0,   .HB   OKNK.A.   THKMB    OP    .    mSCOUUSB 

R  A.7   The  piocess  of  invention  as  applied  to  the 

^    !;  time  of  discourse  consists  in  the  selection  of 

LltS;  the  determination  of  the  partrcular 

I  ;.i.  if  i«;  to  be  discussed, 
form  in  which  it  is  to 

-.    nf   the    expression  "the  theme, 
In  the    very   use   °     *    J^.^  .^^^^,^^  the  necessity 
angular  and  not  ap  -  tern,  ^^^^^^^^  ^^^^^^^^^ 

of  singleness  rathe  theme  ^^^^^^^      ^.^^^^^^^   ^^„ 

to   speak  of   the  thmes  o.  ^^^  _^^^^  ^^^^ 

hardly  wrth  Fop^'X  <;»  -«        _^  ,.^^„,„3,^  ;„  „hich, 
one  general  theme.    The  umty  ^^^ 

:s;«:e^^orhiI»  •^^  — «-  °^ "-  ^ """ 

co-ordinate  thoughts.  broadest 

rte  lroadeT;nityd:t:rn>ined by  the  singleness  of  th. 
t::  !  1  h  tro  J  by  the  particular  ohiect  in  the  dr. 


range  for  in- 
subordinate 
urniture  pos- 
this  stock  of 
ties  of  inven- 
bit  the  sound- 
power  he  has 


SCOURSE. 

pplied  to  the 
e  selection  of 
he  particular 

he  theme,"— a 
d  the  necessity 
\cr  on  absurdity 
Discourse    can 
has  more  than 
lurse,  in  which, 
lere  be  but  one 
rdinate  and  sub- 
)f    two  or  more 

irst  and  broadest 
id  in  the  proper 
i  singleness  of  th« 
object  in  the  dis- 


THEME    OF    DISCOTTRSB. 


39 


cussion,  and  still  farther  by  the  process  by  which  the  dis- 
cussion  is  conducted. 

§  48.  The  principles  which  regulate  this  process 
regard  either  the  mind  of  the  spealcer*  himself,  the 
occasion  of  speaking,  the  mind  addressed,  or  the  ob- 
iect  of  the  discourse. 

§  49  In  selecting  his  theme  and  determining  the 
particular  aspect  to  be  taken  of  it,  the  writer  has  need 
to  corsult  his  own  mind  chiefly  in  reference  to  the 
capabilities  of  supplying  the  particular  thoughts  and 
illustrations  by  means  of  which  his  subject  is  to  be 
presented  and  developed. 

No  one  in  proper  discourse  writes  merely  with  a  view  to 
an  effect  on  himself.  Sometimes,  indeed,  the  pen  may  be 
employed  in  investigation.  Such  compositions,  however, 
are  not  proper  discourse,  which  always  more  or  less  defi- 
nitely or  directly  respects  another  mind.  The  writer,  there- 
fore, will  need  ever  to  select  a  theme  on  which  he  is  com- 
petent to  write;  respecting  which  he  has  ample  information 
and  means  of  illustration  within  his  power. 

It  is  nevertheless  a  great  mistake,  although  a  common 
;one,  to  suppose  that  a  subject  very  familiar  and  at  the  same 
time  verv  comprehensive,  is  most  favorable  to  ease  of  execu- 
tion. Invention  is  an  originating,  creative  process  in  its 
essential  nature.  As  such  it  is  the  most  proper  and  delight- 
ful work  of  a  rational  being;  and  whenever  it  is  pursued, 
imparts  a  pleasure  which  itself  fires  anew  the  energy  of  the 
inventive   faculty^This    is   the   inspiration   of    original 

*  In  order  to  avoid  all  unnecessary  multiplication  of  words,  but 
one  of  tlie  specific  terms,  "writer"  and  "speaker,"  will  ordinarily 
be  used  liereafter,  even  wlien  the  generic  notion  of  the  person  dis 
eoursing,  whether  through  the  pen  or  the  voice,  is  meant. 


il 


!'■! 


I  i 


-':ijM 

:,.;'|1H 

t'li^DH 

■'1lli 

:i 

^ia-|[^ 

'MHi 

INVENTION. 

*"  .,,  ,  necessarily  attends  the  production 

g,„i„s-the  rapture  *»t  "";„,■  thought.  Whenever  a 
of  new  Ihouglits  and  or  ^  ^^^^^  ^^^  comprehensive 
familiar  and,  at  the  same  .      ^_^^  ^^  ^^^  composition 

•heme  i»  -''-f '  l^t;  amiliar  views  can  be  taken,  and 
be  narrow,  only  f^''^  ^  ;,  ,  cold,  inanimate  work 

there  is  ao  life  ol  nv.  •  ,^^^^^^  ;^  „„  j^^p,. 

of  the  memory  recalling  de^adjh  ^^^^  ^^  ^^^^  ^^^  ^.^^^ 
ration,  no  salislaction.  ^^^  ^^^^  ^^  jovention  must 

taken,  something  ongmai,  .^        .^^  ^;^„^ 

necessarily  be  laborious  -^  'eavy-    «  J^^     ^  ^^^^^^ 

.,.,  furnish  the  occasion  «    or  .„in  ^^^^^  ^^^ 

">'  r":  T  The' me  specific  and  definite,  therefore, 
familiar  to  all.     l"e  't  of  invention.     Cau- 

the  theme,  the  easier  wi    be  ^^  ^.^^  ^^  _^^^  ^^^ 

tion  only   is  necessary  tliat  ^^^^^^.^^_  ^.__^^  ^^^^  ^^^. 

limited  for  the  -"'"  7;;;  „h„  can  take  the  most  minute 
most  vigorous  and  practiced 

and  particular  vievvs.  .^^^  ^^^^j  are 

Voung  writers  shouM  be  »  1  ur  g    ^^^^     ^_^^^^^^^^,^ 

called  «/«-■■(*  "''y™'^- .      ' '"?  L,lre  most  difficult  to 
J     \.r.  in  selecting  themes,  agaiust  ijj'^ 

nLn;:::LsofWge- 

-^'"^rtM^roCL^lXlean^nddry..., 

fjr^l    belaid  that  the  facili,-  ^^";-^::^:  " 
.         .•      L\]\  nroceed  will  depend  on  the  richness  u 
rSrelfw^Mrconstitute^he  theme,  not  on  the  gar. 


it  may  chance  to  weai 
5v  50.  A  proper  reg 


aid  to  the  occasion  of  speaking 


the  production 
Whenever    a 
comprehensive 
;he  composition 
.  be  taken,  and 
uanimate  work 
ere  is  no  inspi- 
ome  nev7  view 
invention  must 
is  specific  views 
ition.     In  them 
notions  that  are 
finite,  therefore, 
Qvention.     Cau- 
iew  be  not  too 
.;  since  only  the 
the  most  minute 

against  what  are 

rally  unfavorable 

most  difficult  to 

that  only  general 

writers  on  their 
specious  mottoes 
1  the  theme  is  in- 
may  be  rich  and 
ean  and  dry.  It 
which  the  work  of 
,e  richness  of  the 
.,  not  on  the  garb 

sion  of  speaking 


THI'MI'    "f    DISCOUUSE. 


41 


will  determine  the  process  of  invention  not  only  in 
reference  to  the  character  of  tlie  theme  to  be  selected, 
but,  also,  in  reference  to  the  latitude  as  well  as  partic 
ular  field  of  view  that  is  taken,  and  the  illustrations 
that  are  to  be  presented. 

^  51    There  is  obviously,  Ukewise,  a  necessity  of 
consulting  the  character  of  the  audience ;  the  extent 
of  their  information,  their  peculiar  habits  of  thought, 
their  feelings  also,  and  their  relations  to  the  speaker. 
>      There  is  perhaps  no  point  to  which  Cicero's  fundamental 
rule  in  regard  to  all  discourse,  that  it  consist  with  propriety— 
«ut  deceat"—hvis  greater  force  of  application  than  h^re. 
It  cannot  be  too  earnestly  inculcated  on  every  speaker  to 
consult  carefully  the  minds  and  feelings  of  those  whom  he 
is  to  address  in  the  selection  of  his  theme  and,  also,  in  the 
development  of  it.     Any  offense  against  propriety  or  deco- 
^  rum  here  is  more  fatal  to  all  the  ends  of  speaking  than  any 
where  else. 

§  52   The  character  of  the  theme  and  the  particu- 
lar view  that  is  taken  of  it  as  well  as  the  general 
mode  of  developing  it  will  also  be  affected  by  the  par- 
ticular  object  which  the  writer  may  wish  to  accom- 
I  plish  in  his  discourse. 

I  It  is  assumed  that  all  proper  discourse  has  an  object.  A 
i  speaker  does  not  speak  without  an  end  in  view.  This  end 
or  object  lies  in  the  mind  addressed,  and  consists  lu  some 
change  to  be  effected  there  by  the  discourse. 

Dr.  Whately,  indeed,  enumerates  some  species  of  what 
he  calls  ^^  spurious  oratory,"  as  where  one  speaks  merely  to 
seem  to  say  something,  when  there  is  in  fact  nothing  to  be 
said;  or  to  occupy  time;  or  for  mere  display  of  eloquence 

4* 


INVENTION. 


"^  „,P„rious  oratory,"  indicate,  that 

The  very  name,  l-oweve  ,    «  „^  ^,,  .„  be  accom- 

,11  true  discourse  must  have  a        i  ^^  ^^„^,„,  ,  und. 

phshed  by  the  oommumcat  o.       ^^.J^,,^^,,,,  the  deter- 

We  >nust  seek,  ^^-^X^ossi^"  objeets  of  discourse. 
„,ination  of  the  part.cula  P  ^^^^^_^^       .^^,^^^  „f 

.53.  The  ultimate  cud  0' a  ^^^.^jj.ie  ob- 

,  iral  or  otl"-^,^^^^^^^^^^^^^  end  is  reached  .nay 

jecls  through  which  to  u  ^^      ^^  ^^c  wtU  of 

lie  in  the  understand'ng,  the 

the  persons  addressed.  ^j.  ^,j 

^^^•^'':ct;nn:r:-K......."o., 

discourse  '''"''";' !;^^^,,.„^,  and  Persuasion. 
Conviction,  Exc,  ,_^  ^^^^  „oderstanding 

A  change  prod..ced  by  0  ,,    jion,  or  n  now  or 

„ay  be  either  a  new^r  -  ;>fi^^^^^ 
modified  judgment,     nmc 

understanding.  ^^  conception  is 

.  65.  The  process  by  whu^h  a  ^.^.^^  ^  ^^^^ 

piduced,is  »>yStrC-«     ^^'"^"^^"' 
the  sensibilities  per^to^ion. 

«-'-^"^"'':;:!;.erved,arena.^ 

These  P'°=^^^'''  ',:  "d,3i,„aions  given  embrace  as  well 
positive  species;  and  he  d«'»  ^^._^^^  ^h„,,  ,e  either  pro- 
them  as  their  oppos>^es.    1^  P  ^^  ^^^  ^,„,ay  e,„t- 

duee  a  new  conception  or  co  ^^  ^  ^^^^  „p,„. 

;„,.  Oouvietion  includes  b*P  _^^^.„„  „f  „„,  „. 

ion  or  judgment  ^^,^„,  embraces  the  awaken- 

'»^^:;i^^i2re:;:"i.e- 

^;  aud  in  persuasion,  vv 


iither 


jiuri' 


0U3 


emotion  or  pas 


Til 


KMK    OI'     UUSCOIIHSR. 


jither 


choice  or  dissuade  from 


aa 


43 

existing  inteutioa 


mjve  to  a  new 

or  purpose.  jjsrourse  is  more  narrowly 

,3Uisucd  ill  tho  dcvelopiuciit  of  a  subject. 

subject  ol  discourse,  (^  M)-  ^  ^^^^t 

To  ;  t  be laaW  p«™.ed  ti,rou,U„ut  t>,e  a.cou,.. 
1  -7    The  several  proecsses  of  explanation,  conv.c- 
§  .,7.  The  ^'-"'7  •;         .       „„  so  related  to  each 

EM^lSl  precedes  conviction,  as  the  trt.th  ntu 
he  nlt"^<«  before  it  can  be  helievcd;  exp  a— 
id  conviction   naturally  precede  «— ^aUy te 

bcUeved  to  exist  "^"o  ^       ,         j^,.^^  processes, 

::it:e:r:tS,rhejudg.nent  convinced,  arid  the 
uiiderstuiidiag  informed. 

R  r,Q    The  work  of  invention   can   never   proceed 
steadily  and  undeviatingly  pursued. 


I 


i\ 


IjjVBNTl";'- 


.        ,•  „  i,  more  fundamental  or  praci 
No  principle  of  ^'^f'"''^'"   ;„  ,i,n  is  the  very  life  .- 

cally  i-P""""' ,''""!.  liect  of  speaking  be  distinctly  per- 
invention.     Unless  the  obje>,to      p  .__^^^_^.^^  ^^^__„^ 

eeived  and  that  object  be  str  t  y  . ^^^^  ^^^^^.^^^  ^,_^,  ^„ 
,„3  „„  foothold  at  aU,  or  at  le  ^,^  ^^^^^^__  ^^^  ^.^^^  ^^,^,.^ 
its  operations  must  be  "         J^.^  ^  ^^^^^  ^.^^^  „,-  ^^e  sU„l« 

'"  ""f^tlure  discussed,  and  then  of  the  one  ob,.t 
sub  ect  which  IS  to  0  ji,„ussion. 

„hich  is  to  be  ='"--^_^'^ ''',,,„,  else,  that  young  writer. 
It  is  here,  more  than  any  _^^   j^,,.,,,^^ 

f,i,.  They  g-  '''-t:J:ctZlichthey.vrite,e.. 
.pprehe..ion  of  t  e  s.r^'  ^J^  „„as-brilUant  if  it 
oept  perhaps,  .t  be  o J,    a  ^^^.__^  ^^  ^^^^^^ 

may  be,  at  aU    vents  vv>  ^^^^  .^  ^,_^  ,^^^^_  ^„, 

view,  the  mind  has  no  'f'\  J  .^y^at  can  be  more 
the  task  is  the  --f;:r„t;^ri.a  because  entertain- 

.0  than  to  ^""'""'f  ;,';".  ;,,  „„e  life  animates  them, 
i„,noliving.houghtU.t  wihit    0  e,^^^^^_^^  ^^  ^^^_^^_ 

•"^  r  nils  o:;cr  a^  'U  gives  discourse  its  iife; 
„ar?  It  .3  '"  °T  ,,„„  two  lives  in  itself,  there  can 
and  as  no  one  thing    an  .ve  ^^  ,^  ^^^^  .^  ^,_^ 

be  but  one  »™  »*.,,„„,  ,„  „i,.  Certainly  the  work 
"rVntir  th  Mghes  and  most  proper  .ork  of  man  as  a 
:lrn:Uei  can!ot  proceed  happily  without  an  aim  dis- 

*1'ir  istffirst  thing  to  be  done  in  the  construction 
of  a  slse,  after  the  selection  of  '»e  theme -^^1-;-;- 
termine  definitely  what  is  the  particular  object  ol  the  dis. 
i,  the  object  to  explain  a  subject;  to  convince  of 
r::.^  et:^  tHe  feeling  in  relation  to  it;  or  to  move 
t  rdtnuponit?  This  principle  cannot  be  too  earnestly 
faithfully  observed. 


lUV 


V»lvv 


PAnry  or  ih-c;<'Imi«b. 


45 


As  these  several  acts  of  expltinatio.i,  conviction,  excita- 
tion, and  persuasion  may  proceed  each  by  several  distinct 
Bpecilic  processes,  it  will  of  course  facilitate  invention  to 
determine,  previously  to  the  construction  of  a  discourse,  the 
particular  process  which  the  case  may  require. 

§  59  Inasmuch  as  the  development  of  the  general 
theme  is  determined  by  the  particular  object  of  the 
discourse,  the  four  processes,  by  one  or  other  of  which 
this  object  must  be  accomplished,  viz :  those  of  expla- 
nation, confnmation,  excitation,  and  persuasion,  con- 
stitute  the  distinct  departments  of  Rhetorical  Inven^ 

tion. 


CHAPTER  III. 

OF   THE    PARTS    OP    A    DISCOURSE. 

§  60  The  development  of  a  theme  of  discourse  for 
the  purpose  of  explanation,  conviction,  excitation,  and 
persuasion,  necessarily  proceeds  by  stages,  which,  m 
reference  to  the  particular  object  at  the  time,  may  be 
distinguished  from  each  other.  A  discourse  may 
thus  be  conveniently  regarded  as  consistmg  of  parts  r 
some  of  which  are  essential  to  all  discourse  and  others 
subsidiary  or  essential  only  in  particular  cases. 

§  61.  The  essential  parts  of  discourse  are  the  frop- 
osiTioN  and  the  discussion. 

§  62.  The  proposition  is  the  particular  subject 
as  modified  and  determined  by  the  object  of  the  tlis- 
rouvse. 


46 


INVKNTION. 


- 


■r  r.  »  it  should  be  observetl,  is  here 
?^/"'"  ''':iCV-lt  of  the  .or„. 'Mhe™^ 

used  .0  a  .--  "    ";^  „^,  „,  aeter,„ined  by  >H  object  or 
The  propos,t.o„  ts  lie  tl  ^j^^_^^^_  .,^^^  ,_^_ 

^"'  frf  „;::"''«.      evarioLi.  discussed  i„  re,eren« 
,„„tab,htyot  truth      nK,  _^  ^^  ^^^^  ^,^^^^^.^_^ 

n  prove  the  statement  that  "truth  .s  .mmutable;     or  to 

a  vLu  eonfidence  in  all  truth  as  being  in  rts  nature  .mmu- 

^Ik-  or  to  n,ove  to  zealous  effort  to  aequ.re  truth  because 

l^table.      A   rhetorical   proposition   includes    thus  tl» 

:::  and  the  particular  design  for  whic     >' -  — • 

One  formal  mode  of  staling  the  proposition  in  actual  dis 

course  would  be  as  follows  :  "The  object  of  this  discourse  is 

.0  prove  the  ^-"'^^■;^  ^  ^  aistinguished 

A  rhetorical  proposition  is  careiuuy   lu  ,„''-.    , 

from  a  logical  proposition.  The  latter  may  be  defined  to  be 
<;  le  erbal  —at  of  a  judgment."  A  log-l  propor- 
tion accordi,i.lv,  may  constitute  the  theme  of  a  rhetorical 
:  'o  t  on  If  his  theme  be  stated  together  with  the  use 
to  be  mlde  of  it  in  discourse,  it  will  then  become  a  rhetor- 
ical  proposition. 

&  63   The  disccss.on  is  that  part  of  a  discourse 
in  whicli  the  subject  is  unfolded  and  directly  presented 
-to  the  mind  addressed  for  one  of  the   purposes  that 
have  been  named. 

The  discussion  is  accordingly  the  main  thing  in  all  dis- 
course,  and  constitutes  its  body.  The  proposition  sets  for  h 
the  design  of  the  speaker;  and  the  other  parts  are  merely 
preparatory  and  subsidiary  to  this  main  design  which  l. 
directly  pursued  in  the  discusdon. 

§  04.  Tlie  general  tonus  of  the  discussion  arc  tie 


PARTS    OF     DISCOURSr:. 


47 


termined  by  the  object  of  the  discourse,  and  are  four 
in  niinil)er  corresponding  to  the  four  main  objects  that 
may  be  aimed  at  in  discourse,  §  51. 

§  65.  The  more  specific  forms  of  the  discussion  are 
determined  by  the  particular  processes  in  which  expla- 
nation, conviction,  excitation,  and  persuasion  are 
respectively  carried  on. 

§  66.  The  subsidiary  parts  of  discourse  are  either 
preparatory,  or  applicator y ;  and  may  in  general 
terms  be  denominated  the  Introduction  and  the 
Peroration. 

§  67  The  design  and  use  of  the  Introduction 
is  to  prepare  the  way  in  the  mind  addressed  for  the 
more  ready  and  free  reception  of  the  proposition  and 
the  discussion. 

^  68  As  it  is  obvious  that  the  mind  addressed  may 
be  favorably  or  unfavorably  disposed  for  the  reception 
of  the  proposition  and  the  discussion,  either  in  respect 
to  the  degree  or  kind  of  information  it  possesses,  or  its 
state  of  opinion,  of  feeling  or  of  purpose,  the  intro- 
duction must,  in  different  cases,  be  prepared  m  refer- 
ence to  these  diverse  states  of  mind. 

The  two  more  generic  kinds  of  introduction  will  be, 
accordingly,  the  Explanatory  and  the  Conciliatory 

introduction. 

In  the  former,  the  object  of  the  introduction  will  be 
effected  by  informing  more  fully  the  minds  of  the 
hearers;  in  the  latter,  by  removing  prejudice  or  by  cu- 
Usting  directly  a  favorable  interest. 

It  is  obvious,  moreover,  that  these  states  of  luind  mav 


p 


48 


INVKNTION. 


respectively  regard  diflerent  objects,  as  the  speaker  or  the 
subject  itself.  Hence  will  be  determined  the  still  more  spe- 
cific forms  of  the  introduction.  _  ' 

The  consideration  of  the  particular  kinds  of  introduction 
and  the  laws  of  its  use  has,  for  obviou?  reasons,  its  appro- 
priate place  under  the  several  general  heads  of  Inventiou. 

§  69.  As  the  Introduction  is  only  a  subsidiary  and 
a  preparatory  part  of  a  discourse,  the  topics  which  it 
must  embrace  and  the  form  in  which  it  should  appear 
cannot  be  fully  known  until  the  nature  and  form  of 
the  proposition  and  of  the  discussion  are  well  ascer- 
tained by  the  speaker.  Hence,  the  proper  time  for  the 
invention  and  the  composition  of  the  Introduction  is 
after  the  subject  has  been  thoroughly  studied  out,  and 
the  general  form  of  the  discussion  well  settled  in  the 
mind. 

It  would  obviously  be  as  absurd  in  a  writer  to  construct 
an  Introduction  before  the  plan  of  the  discourse  is  deter- 
mined upon,  as  it  would  be  in  an  architect  to  put  up  a  por- 
tico before  he  had  determined  what  kind  of  a  house  to 
attach  to  it.  That  this  absurdity  is  frequently  committed  in 
writing  and  in  architecture,  only  shows  the  necessity  of  call- 
ing particular  attention  to  it.  There  is  no  one  feature  of  the 
Introduction  which  may  not  receive  its  determinate  charac- 
ter from  the  proposition  and  the  discussion.  The  length, 
the  matter,  incl  ,^ing  both  the  thought  and  the  feeling,  and 
the  style  cannot  be  known  till  the  plan  of  the  discussion  is 
fully  determined  upon. 

By  this  it  is  not  meant  that  the  discussion  should  be  writ- 
ten out  or  reduced  to  forms  of  language;  but  merely  that 
the  whole  plan  of  the  discussion  be  distinctly  conceived  in 
the  mind,  before  the  Introduction  is  composed. 


r.vKTS  OF   Di.'-:<:oi:iJf?E. 


49 


The  necessity  ol'  tlius  first  studying'  out  and  accurately 
determining  in  the  mind  the  plan  of  the  discussion  before 
the  Introduction  is  commenced^  appears  not  only  from  the 
fact  that  unless  this  be  the  case  it  is  all  a  matter  of  mere 
accident  whether  there  be  any  correspondence  between  it 
and  the  body  of  the  discourse.,  but  also  from  the  considera- 
tion that  it  is  only  thus  that  unity,  in  which  lies  all  the  life 
of  invention  as  well  as  of  discourse,  can  be  secured.  The 
very  idea  of  a  discourse,  as  a  product  of  a  rational  mind 
that  ever  has  an  aim  in  its  proper  workings,  involves  the 
necessity  of  unity;  and  this  unity  appears  in  discourse 
mainly  in  the  proposition  and  the  discussion  as  the  essential 
paits.  The  clear  perception  of  what  is  needed  to  be  effected 
in  the  mind  addressed  by  way  of  preparation,  in  order  that 
this  aim  of  the  discourse  can  be  attained  in  it,  is  abso- 
lutely indispensable  both  to  guide  invention  in  constructing 
the  Introduction  and  to  stimulate  it  so  that  its  work  shall 
be  easy  and  successful. 

§  70.  The  Peroration,  as  that  part  of  a  discourse 
in  which  the  theme  is  applied,  will  vary  with  the 
different  specific  objects  aimed  at  in  the  application. 

Sometimes  the  application  will  be  in  the  form  of 
explanation,  either  for  the  purpose  of  coirecting  erro- 
neous views  or  for  further  instruction.  This  form  of 
the  peroration  may  be  denominated  the  explanatory. 

Sometimes  the  object  of  the  peroration  may  be  to 
correct  a  wrong  opinion,  or  to  confirm  a  particular  truth 
involved  in  the  general  theme  ;  in  which  case  the  per- 
oration will  be  confirmatory. 

Sometimes  the  object  may  be  to  address  the  subject 
more  directly  to  the  feehngs,  which  will  give  rise  to 

the  excitatory  or  pathetic  peroration. 

5 


m 


IxWiiNTIoN. 


Or,  oQce  more,  some  action  may  be  proposed,  in  the 
peroration,  to  the  mind  addressed,  and  then  the  per^ 
suasive  peroration  will  have  place. 

^  7\  Tpie  Recapitulation  is  a  form  of  perora- 
tion common  to  the  various  objects  mentioned.  The 
respective  processes  of  explanation,  conviction,  excita- 
tioii  or  of  persuasion  pursued  in  the  discourse  are,  m 
this'form,  concisely  repeated  for  the  purpose  of  a  more 
full  and  complete  effect. 


I 


PART    I.— EXPLANATION. 


CHAPTER  I. 


GENERAL    INTRODUCTORY    VIEW. 

§  72.  In  explanation,  the  object  of  discourse  is  to 
inform  or  instruct ;  in  other  and  more  technical  words, 
to  lead  -0  a  new  conception  or  notion,  or  to  modify 
one  already  existing  in  the  mind. 

§  73.  The  work  of  explanation  is  accomplished 
simply  by  bringing  the  object  of  the  conception  dis- 
tinctly and  favorably  before  the  mind  addressed. 

§  74.  Although  explanation,  properly,  is  a  purely 
intellectual  process,  since  it  aims  merely  to  produce  or 
modify  a  conception  or  notion  which  is  a  pure  intel- 
lectual state,  still  as  the  understanding  itself  is  influ- 
enced by  the  feelings  and  the  state  of  the  will,  refer- 
ence to  these  departments  of  mind  is  not  wholly  ex- 
cluded from  explanatory  discourse.  The  passions  are, 
however,  to  be  employed  only  in  strict  subordination 
to  the  design  of  the  discourse ;  that  is,  only  for  ihe 
purpose  of  facilitating  the  process  of  explnuation. 
This  is  done  chiefly  or  wliolly  by  securing  an  undis- 
turbed attention  to  tiie  object  presented. 


52 


i:Xi'l,ANATl(>N. 


ii    (   flip  fnste  be   consulted  in  all 

:t::::zt::::ai:-M.e.eive„.^ 

;  e      d      Xe,.oph«n  has  we.1  observed  that  .astruct.oa  m 
P  „l,,i.  IVom  one  who  does  not  please* 

the  eKisteuce  of  some  favorite  opinion  .vh.ch  may  be  unfa. 
Ibly  aftected  by  the  object  presented  m  the  discourse; 
Zd  ar' umentation  may  be  necessary  as  a  preparatory  work 
even  fo'r  the  purpose  of  explaining  a  truth. 

So  likevvise,  the  attention  may  be  disturbed  by  some 
teellJo-  or  purpose  in  the  mind  addressed,  which  must  be 
appro;rialely  .naaaoed  by  the  speaker  who  would  secure 
attention  to  his  explaaalion.  .  ,    ^  ,  i  , 

These  processes,  however,  are  not  essential,  but  merely 
incidental  in  explanatory  discourse.  It  is  sufficient,  there- 
fore,  here  merely  to  indicate  generally  the  relation  ot  this 
to  the  other  processes  in  discourse. 

§  75.  The  subject  or  theme  of  explanatory  dis- 
course is  some  oi)jcct  or  truth  to  be  perceived. 

The  state  of  mind  to  be  produced  by  explanation,  as  has 
been  before  observed,  is  a  conception.     The  term  is  used  m 
a  strictly  technical  sense,  as  distinguished  from  a  judgment. 
As  it  is  important  that  the  meaning  .)f  these  logical  terms 
should  be  clearly  apprehended,  the  follo-.ing  defmitions  vviU 
not  be  out  of  place  here.     A  Conception  is  that  state  ot  the 
understanding  in  which  an  object  or  truth  is  simply  per- 
ceived,  without  any  affirmation  or  denial  respecting  it.     A 
jnd,rment,  on  the  other  hand,  is  that  intellectual  state  m 
which  an  object  or  truth  is  not  only   perceived^ut  some 

""^em".  Lib.  I."crn7T39:        MS^^c:,6=>.'av  ?.vai 


■Mk,.. 


INTliODUCTORV    VIEW. 


53 


affirmation  or  denial  is  made  respecting  it.  When  I  per- 
ceive "  a  tree/'  I  have  a  conception  of  it.  When  I  aiiirra 
"  it  is  an  aj)ple-tree/'  I  have  a  judgment  respecting  it. 

A  logical  proposition,  in  the  proper  sense,  that  is,  a  sen- 
tence which  expresses  a  judgment  may,  nevertheless,  be 
viewed  simply  as  an  object  of  conception.  As  when  it  is 
said  '^Lavv  is  a  rule  of  action,"  although  the  sentence 
contains  a  judgment  or  affirmation,  still  the  mind  may  re- 
gard it  merely  as  a  thing  to  be  perceived  or  understood  and 
not  as  that  on  which  a  judgment  is  to  be  formed.  Logical 
propositions,  thus,  as  well  as  mere  names  of  things,  may 
form  proper  subjects  of  explanation;  since  they  may  be 
regarded  merely  as  conceptions. 

It  may  be  further  remarked  that  the  object  which  consti- 
tutes the  theme  of  explanation  is  not  necessarily  any  real 
object  or  truth;  but  only  one  as  so  regarded  by  the  writer. 
It  may  be  a  purely  imaginary  object  not  supposed  by  him 
to  have  any  foundation  in  reality ;  or  it  may  be  an  erroneous 
conception  in  his  mind  of  a  real  object  or  truth;  or,  farther, 
it  may  be  a  conception  founded  on  reality  but  modifiec' 
throuiih  the  influences  of  his  peculiar  habits  of  observation. 
Explanation  is,  in  this  respect  of  its  subject  or  theme, 
distinguished  from  conviction.  In  explanation,  the  subject 
is  ever  an  object  of  a  conception.  In  conviction,  it  is  ever 
a  judgment. 

§  70.  The  unity  of  explanatory  discourse,  so  far  as 
it  is  determined  by  the  theme,  requires  that  the  con- 
ception which  forms  tlie  theme,  be  one.  This  one 
conception,  however,  may  be  simple  or  complex ;  may 
embrace  but  one  individual  or  a  class. 

In  order  to  insure  this  broader  unity   the  writer  should 

ever  carefully  see?  whether  the  particular  topics  which  he  i« 

6* 


Ill  I 


'■j 


61 


KXIMi.VNATIO.V. 


to  treat  of  can  be  embraced  in  one  complex  conception.     H 
not,  he  has  reason  to  suspect  that  unity  will  be  sucrilicod. 
If  he  is  unable  to  reduce  the  sjjecific  topics  of  his  discourse 
under  a  single  class,  he  will  be  in  danger  of  violating  unity. 
It  nnis^  not  be  sup])osed,  however,  that  because  the  proposi- 
tion as  stated  includes  two  or  more  topics,  for  that  reason 
alone,  unity  must  necessarily  be  sacrificed.     Thus,  the  sub- 
ject of  an  essay   may  be  "  the  causes  and  effects  of  the 
Crusades.''      This  theme,  although,  as  stated,  it  embraces 
more  than  one  topic,  may  be  discussed  with  a  perfect  obser- 
trance  of  unity.     The  crusades,  as  a  single  class  of  events, 
may  be  presented  concretely  in  their  historical  relations,  that 
is,  in  the  single  relation  of  time,  or  abstractly  under  the 
sino-le  causal  relation  to  antecedent  and  subsequent  events. 
§  77.  The  particular  processes  by  which  the  expla- 
nation of  an  object  or  truth  may  be  effected,  are  five  in 
number,  viz  :  Narration,  Description,  Analysis, 
Exemplification,  and  Comparison  or  Contrast. 
All  objects,  even  such  as  are  purely  abstract  or  spiritual, 
as  represented  in  discourse,  must  be  contemplated  undc  •  ihe 
relations  either  of  time  or  of    space.     Hence,  the  original 
and  proper  processes  of  explanation  are  but  two  in  number; 
one,   in    which  the  object   is  viewed    under  the    relations 
of  time,  the  other,  in  which  it  is  regarded  under  the  relations 
of  space. 

But  an  object  viewed  in  its  relations  to  time  may  also  be 
contemplated  in  its  relations  to  its  own  parts  or  to  other  ob- 
jects of  the  same  class.  And  an  object  existing  in  space 
may  be  represented  by  a  designation  of  the  adjoining  parts. 
Thus,  the  mammoth,  an  extinct  species  of  animals,  may  be 
represented  either  under  the  idea  of  time,  giving  rise  to 
classification  by  the  indication  of  its  varieties,  or  under  the 


.a 


INTItODUCTORY    VIEW 

indication  of  i 


55 


component  parts,  as 


idea  of  space,  by  the 
head,  body,  limbs,  &c. 

Or,  again,  it  may  be  represented  by  the  exhibition  of  one 
of  the  species  taken  as  an  example.  The  account  of  the 
mammoth  found  entire  in  a  frozen  state  by  a  Tungusian, 
named  SchumacholT,  in  1799,  furnishes  thus  the  best  repre- 
sentation  of  this  extinct  species  of  the  Elephant. 

Or,  farther,  the  object  may  be  designated  through  its  rela- 
tions to  other  individuals  of  the  same  class.  We  represent, 
thus,  by  comparing  objects  through  the  points  of  resemblance 
or  by  contrasting  them  through  the  points  of  diversity  or  op- 
position. 

We  have  thus  the  five  different  processes  of  explanation 

enumerated,  viz: 

1.  Narration,  when  the   object  viewed  as  a  whole,  is 
represented  in  continuous  time  or  as  in  succession; 

2.  Description,  when  the  object,  viewed  as  a  whole,  is 
represented  in  spaci  generally; 

3.  Analysis,  when  the  object  is  regarded  as  consisting  of 
parts  related  either  to  time  or  to  space; 

4.  Exeniplijlcation,  when  the  object  .  regarded  as 
generic,  including  species  or  individuals  under  it,  and  is 
represented  through  one  of  the  class;  and 

5.  Comparison  and  Contrast,  when  the  object  is  regarded 
as  belonging  to  a  class,  and  is  represented  through  its  resem- 
blance or  opposition  to  others  of  the  same  class. 

§  78.  While  these  processes  may  all  be  combined 
ill  certain  cases  in  the  same  discourse,  they  are  yet 
easily  distinguishable.  They  may  in  some  cases, 
each,  constitute  the  single  and  only  process  of  expla- 
nation. They  are,  also,  subject  to  entirely  dillerent 
principles  regulating  the  use  of  them  in  discourso. 


i    ■' 


K     I 


gg  EXPLANATION. 

•«Mr  Mnrl  utilitv  of  considering  them 
Hence  the  propriety  ana  iuiui> 

distinctly. 

As  has  been  before  observed,  every  art  embraces  diverse 

II  nr  uhich    ill  the  mure  cumphcated 
particular  processes,  allot  ulntibia 

Lins  of  tl^  art,  are  carried  on  simultaueousl;  tc.,elher.    la 
acqnisitioa    of   the   a.t,  however,  these  processes    arc 
LhJd,  and  studied  and  ex.u.plided  in  practice  separate  y 
L'siu^lv.     An    extended  arithmetical   p.ocess    general  y 
otbL^ihe  various  particular  processes  of  addition,  sub- 
traction, multiplication,  and  division,  if  not   various  other 
higher  processes.     In  aciuiring  the  art,  however,  the  atten- 
tion of  the  learner  is  advantageously  directed  to  these  pov- 
ticular  processes  sing-ly    and  successively.     Each  is  studied 
and  exercised  upon,  before  the  next  is  taken  up.     When 
each  several  process  is  thus  made  familiar  by  separate  and 
continued  study  aad  eKercisc,  the  more   complicated  opera- 
lions  are  perfonned  with  ease  and  success.     It  is  so  ^ith 
every   art.      So  self-evident,  indeed,  is   this  principle   that 
nothing  but  the  fact  of  the  strange  neglect  and  oversight  of 
it  in  tl^  art  of  constructing  discourse  could  justify  a  repeated 
reference    to  it  in  vindication  of    the  course   that  is  here 
proposed.     The  learner  cannot  be  too  earnestly  or  too  trc- 
quently  reminded  of  the  necessity  of  studying  and  exercising 
upon  each  particular  process  in  discourse  separately;  and  o 
continuing  his  study  and  practice  upon  each  in  order,  untU 
a  perfect  practical  famiharitv  with  it  is  acquired. 


NAUnATION. 


57 


CHAPTER  n. 

OF    NARRATION. 

S  70.  NAuao-ioN  is  that  process  of  explanation 
Jch  presents  an  object  iu  its  relations  to  contmunus 

time. 

strictly  speaUns,  narration  ,,r„per  presents  an  object  on  y 
i„  tl,e  several  successive  forms  which  .t  ussun.es  at  succe 
te  perio.ls  of  .in,e.     History,  i«  which  only  the  eluun  of 
evenl  is  c  Jiibitcl,  alVor.ls  one  of  the  most  perfect  e.en.pb- 
ficatioiis  of  pure  narration. 

The  Inmuu,  nu«.l,  howe.er,  io  its  matnrer  development, 
can  hardly  avoid,  ^vhon  it  onton  plates  e-nts  .ranspumg 
ia  snccession,  conceiving  o,  a  can.c  winch  b.nds  th 
events  together.  The  operation  of  a  cause,  n.oreover,  we 
ever  rcprtsent  to  ourselves  as  taldug  place  in  succession  of 
i,„e  Cause  is  thus  the  la.-  or  internal  priocple  o  su^  ces- 
lu;  and  succession  of  events  is  the  outward  man.fes.auon 

of  the  operation  of  that  law.  _ 

Tl.:    relation  of  caus.   ,o  the  succession  of  events  rn  tnne, 

,,ows  a.  onee  th.  philosophu      propriety  of  -S"^  '"S  J 

relation  of  cause  and  effect  as  the  true  governing  pr.naple 

arration.     It  delermines,  at  the  same  time,  the  prop  r 

lubieasof  narrative  discourse  and  the  laws  which  regulate 

"'t,  will  be  convenient  to  exhibit  the  specific  processes  of 
.a-ratiou,  according  as  they  include  distincnv  or  not  th 
idea  of  a  cause-in  other  words,  regard  mere     -t»ard 

-  ^r.4^     oonnnff^lv  and  successively, 
cession  or  not — separaitiy  aiiv.i  o  ^        ^ 

^  Sn.  The  simplest  process  in  narralion  consists  m 
the  exhibition  of  an  object  in  the  diirerent  fonns  wlneh 


58 


EXPLANATION. 


ill 


it  presents  in  successive  periods  of  time  wilhodt  dis- 
tiuct  reference  to  tlie  connecting  causes. 

§  81.  The  principle  of  arrangement  in  this  process 
it,  .simple  succession  of  time. 

In  all  simple  narration,  the  explanation  is  eflected  by  the 
oxhibiUon  of  tlie  object  represented  in  the  successive 
changes.  We  cannot  exhibit  tlie  object  as  literally  chung- 
in-r-  we  can  only  assume  ditVerent  points  of  time  and  mark 
the  particular  phaseJ  the  object  presents  ut  those  points  re- 
spectivelv,  and  leave  it  to  the  mind  of  the  hearer  to  till  up 
the  intervening  period  ai  d  imagine  the  actual  progress  of 
the  changR  from  one  aspect  or  phase  to  another. 

As  it  is  possible  in  discourse,  thus,  only  to  present  (he 
object  at  successive  sfage.s,  passing  over  the  intermediate 
intervals,  judgment  is  necessary  in  the  selection  of  those 
phases  of  the  object  which  are  most  important.  lu  the  his- 
tory of  a  nation,  the  most  important  changes  in  the  direc- 
tion of  its  exertions,  whether  abroad  us  in  v/ars,  or  towards 
its  internal  allairs  as  in  tlie  modifications  of  its  government 
ind  the  cultivation  of  the  various  arts,  may,  thus,  be  selected 
IS  the  points  to  be  exhibited  to  view. 

Still  the  order  of  time  furnishes  the  law  of  arrangement. 
When  the  continuity  of  succession  is  broken,  the  mind  of 
the  reader  is  liable  to  be  olfended;  and  his  interest  is  at 
once  weakened.  This  truth  is  illustrated  in  the  wearisome 
effect  of  those  treatises  on  general  history,  which  take  us, 
in  uccessive  chapters,  to  different  countries,  and  thus  are 
ever  interrupting  the  continuous  succession  of  events. 

§  82.  The  simple  process  of  narration  is  at  once 
rendered  complex  by  the  distinct  exhibition  of  the 
relation  of  cause  and  cllcct  in  the  events  described. 

In  tins  proccs,-;  more'  npoiiL'.s.s  ol'    jiidgmcnt,  (greater  skill 


NAUUATION. 


no 


and  power  of  d.scernment,  iu  short,  a  lii-hor  maturitv  and 
wider   reach  of    intellect  are  requisite.     The  chihl,  i  i  iiis 
narrations,  can  give  only  the  events  as  they  occurred  l,o  his 
view  witii  hardly  any  reference  to  a  cause  that  connects 
them.     The  more  important  he  makes  no  more  prominent 
than  the  less.    Although  the  circumstance  that  he  is  olVended 
and  loses  his  interest  in  th..  narration,  when  the  order  of 
time  is  disregarded,  shows  that  '^le  idea  of  cause  secretly 
inlluenccs  him,  still  the  idea  is  so   little  developed  that  it 
exerts  little  control  over  him  when  he  himself  narrates  to 
others.     The  maturer  mind  takes  no  interest  in  a  chain  ot 
mere  events,  but  as  the  connecting  cause  is  seen.     The  de- 
tection of  this  cause  and  the  clear  exhibition  of  it  to  view, 
at  once,  determines  the  rank  of  his  intellect  and  the  correct- 
ness of  his  idea  of  a  praper  history,  in  the  historian. 

Iu  confirmation  of  this  view,  it  may  be  observed  here, 
that  the  more  philosophical  idea  of  a  history  is  the  product 
only  of  a  highly  advanced  state  of  society.  The  early  his- 
torians, beautiful  and  rich  as  they  are  in  style,  are  yet 
greatly  defective  in  this  respect.  They  confine  themselves 
mainly  to  the  simple  exhibition  of  the  secpicnces  of  events. 
So  far  as  invention  is  concerned,  they  display  but  little 
power  except  in  the  mere  selection  of  the  events.  Such  are 
the  histories  of  Herodotus,  Livy,  and  indeed,  most  of  the 
histories  that  have  been  written.  Truly  philosophical  his- 
tories are  the  production  of  the  most  recent  times. 

§  83.  The  principle  of  ariangemcnt  in  this  pro- 
cess of  narration  is  furnished  in  the  relation  of  >cause 
and  elTect. 

Here  the  causal  relation  is  every  tbing.     Even  succession 
in  time  is  freely  sacrificed  to  it  when  necessary.    As  vanou 
causes  frequently  conspire  to  produce  u  single  eilect,  it  b 


60 


r,X('i.-''.\.Mlt'.N. 


m 

1 1 

m 

[J 


Gomes  necessary  often  to  trao;)  ia  the  order  of  saccession 
the  operation  of  one  cause  after  another;  going  back  m 
time  repeatedly  to  exhibit  the  dilVerent  chains  of  causes 
from  their  origin.  In  the  determination  of  the  place  for  the 
introduction  of  each  particular  topic  or  event,  the  writer 
should  carefully  deliberate  witli  himself,  hoAV  the  causal 
connection  in  the  events  will  be  most  clearly  presented  to 
view,  since  in  this  is  found  the  sole  determining  principle  of 
arrrangement  and  law  of  (levelopment. 

§  84.  The  process  of  narration  is  applied  not  only 
to  outward  events  represented  in  siniphi  succession  of 
time,  §  80,  or  in  the  light  of  the  causal  relation,  §  82, 
but  also  to  all  such  abstract  and  spiritual  subjects  as 
may  he  conceived  of  under  the  idea  of  succession  or 
the  relation  of  cause  and  efTect, 

We  have,  in  this  class  of  narrative  subjects,  a  subdivision 
corresponding  to  that  which  has  been  pointed  out  in  respect 
to  such  as  are  merely  outward  or  sensible.  All  abstract 
thino-s  or  objects  which  may  be  regarded  as  becoming, 
changing,  growing,  and  the  like,  Avhile  they,  and  they  only, 
constitute  proper  subjects  of  narrative  discourse,  may,  also, 
be  represented  either  in  their  successive  stages  or  changes, 
or  in  connection  with  the  cause  that  connects  them. 

In  the  former  case,  the  principle  of  arrangement  and, 
indeed,  the  general  law  of  development  of  the  theme  is 
furnished  in  the  order  of  succession  in  time.  In  the  latter 
case,  it  is  furnished  in  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect. 

Instances  of  this  class  of  subjects  are  *'  the  spread  of 
idolatry  in  the  world,'*  "the  progress  of  vice  in  the  lieart,^* 
"  the  development  of  taste,'*  and  the  like. 

It  is  obvious  that  all  such  su])jects  may  bf  represented 
eitlier  simply  in  respect  to  the  successive  forms  that  may  bo 


NA!{!«Ari()\. 


61 


assumed  by  the  object  or  thing  to  be  represented,  or  in  uni- 
son with  the  cause  of  those  modifications  or  in  dependence 
upon  it. 

In  this  class  of  subjects,  a  still  higher  tact  and  skill  is 
requisite  in  the  selection  of  those  particular  stages  in  the 
progress  of  the  object  represeu'.ed  which  shall  most  happily 
exhibit  to  the  reader  the  actual  progress,  than  is  necessary  in 
the  narration  of  merely   outward  events.     It  is  not  with 
much  difficulty  that  the  naturalist  seizes  upon  those  stages  of 
vegetable  growth  which  shall  give  a  clear  idea  of  the  entire 
continuous  process.     Although  the  tree  is  ever  growing  and 
the  eye  cannot  trace  momently  the  actual  change   that  is 
going  on,  still  the  representation  of  the  seed,  the  germina- 
ting state,  the  woody  stage,  the  condition  ol"  decay ;  or  of 
the  periodical  changes,  the  ascent  of  the  sap,  the  periods  of 
foliage,  of  flowering,  of  fruit  and  the  like,  i&  easy  becaiKse 
tne  successive  stages  or  conditions  of  growth  are  definitely 
marked  to  the   eye.     In  abstract  subjects,  however,  these 
successive  stages  are  with  difficulty   discovered;   and  the 
mere  representation  of  the  successive  development  of  a  vice, 
a  virtue,  a  mental    habit  of  any  kind,  in  respect  to  time 
alone,   denumds    nice    discernment   and   sound   judgment. 
When  the  causal  influence  is  conjoined  with  this,  the  diffi- 
culty becomes  still  greater.     For  the  causes  that  influence 
here  are  not  only  multiform,  but  are,  also,  not  easy  of  detec- 
tion. Their  influence  is  silent  and  hidden.     Hence,  histories 
of  the  progress   of  civilization,  of  the  progress  of  science, 
of  opinion  in  every  field  of  knowledge,  appear  only  in  the 
more  mature  developments  of   mind.     Hence.,  too,  moral 
painting,  one  variety  of  this  species  of  narration,  indicates 
at  once,  when  only  free  from  oVvious  faults,  the  hand  of  a 
master. 

§  85.  The  principles  of  narration  ai)ply  iu  their  full 


62 


EXPLANATIOxV. 


,1 

1f 


!!ii 


■■^B 

fi' 

■■ 

It 

^^^^^^M 

1 

^^^^R 

II 

' 

i^^^B 

1 

i^H 

fll 

■a    i 


foi-e  only  where  the  object  of  the  discourse  is  expla- 
nation under  the  form  of  succession  or  the  relation  of 
cause  and  effect ;  they  have  an  application,  however, 
where  narrative  is  introduced  in  other  forms  of  dis- 
course,  but  in  subordination  to  the  particular  prmciples 
that  govern  in  them. 

In  argumentation,  thus,  narrative  is  often  necessary.  So 
far  as  it  is  narrative,  the  principles  that  have  been  set  forth 
ill  this  chapter  apply.  But  the  narrative  is  introduced  only 
as  subsidiary  to  another  object,  viz  :  conviction.  The 
modification  requisite  in  such  particular  uses  of  narrative 
will,  however,  be  obvious;  and  needs  no  distinct  illustration 

here. 

It  may  be  farther  remarked,  here,  that  narration  is  often 

mingled  with  description  and  other  processes  of  explanation. 

So  far  as  it  is  narrative,  however,  it  observes  its  own  laws. 

^  86.  The  law  of  unity  in  narration  becomes 
more  precisely  determined  and  restricted  by  the  par- 
ticular view  that  is  taken  of  the  theme,  whether  it  is 
regarded  as  merely  subject  to  a  succession  of  changes 
or  whether  the  causal  relation  is  exhibited. 

In  the  former  case,  unity  is  preserved  if  the  one 
object  of  the  discourse  be  the  only  thing  presented, 
and  be  presented  only  as  subject  to  a  continuous  suc- 
cession of  changes. 

In  the  latter  case,  the  principle  of  unity  may  lie  in 
the  single  cause  whose  operation  is  traced  out  in  its 
successive  effects ;  or  in  the  development  of  the  single 
effect  from  the  combined  operation  of  the  several 
causes. 

It  will  be  observed  that  the  simplicity  or  complexity  of 


NAURATIOIV. 


63 


If 


Hie  theme  will  not  adect  the  unity.  The  therne  may  be  the 
life  or  the  trausactiun  of  an  individual;  tlie  history  of  a 
community  or  nation  through  the  whole  or  particular  stages 
of  its  existence;  it  may  be  a  cause  producing  its  effects  on 
a  single  individual,  a  community  )r  state  or  the  race  gener- 
allv,  through  greater  or  less  periods  of  time;  it  may  be  an 
effect  experienced  over  the  world  as  that  of  the  christianiza- 
tion  of  the  earth,  or  of  a  single  continent,  as  the  civilization 
of  Europe,  or  of  an  individual,  as  the  moral  greatness  of 
Howard. 

Farther,  as  the  highest  and  ultimate  aim  in  all  human 
action  is  a  moral  one,  and  as  all  discourse  has  an  ultimate 
end  which  is  moral  in  its  cha  acter,  although  in  narration 
the  commanding  end  is  the  information  of  the  understand- 
ing and  thus  purely  intellectual,  still  it  cannot  be  regarded 
AS  a  violation  of  unity  if  incidentally  the  truths  thus  brought 
Oefore  the  understanding  be  applied  to  a  moral  end.  Tlie 
historian,  thus,  by  no  means  infringes  on  the  law  of  unity, 
when  he  breaks  from  the  strict  course  of  his  narration  to 
apply  the  moral  lessons  which  his  narration  teaches.  This, 
however,  in  all  proper  narration,  must  never  appear  as  the 
immediate  and  commanding,  or  even  us  a  co-ordinate  aim. 
If  the  inculcation  of  a  moral  lesson  be  made  the  controlling 
end,  the  discourse  loses  its  proper  character  as  narration. 
It  then  obeys  other  laws,  and  narration  acts  only  a  subor- 
dinate part. 

§  87.  Completeness,  in  simple  narration,  requires 
that  the  theme  be  presented  in  all  those  phases  or 
changes  of  the  event  which  are  necessary  to  give  to 
the  mind  addressed  a  full  conception  of  its  prog'ress  to 
its  termination. 

In   complex  narration,  completeness  requires  that 


> 


64 


EXPLANATION. 


the  cause  in  its  entire  efficiency  be  exhibited  and  la 
reference  to  the  entire  series  of  events  wh.ch  it  occa- 
sions. 


CHAPTER  III- 

OF    DESCRIPTION. 

§  88  Description  is  that  process  of  explanation 
in  which  the  object  is  represented,  mediately  or  imme- 
diately, under  the  relations  of  space. 

^  89  The  subjects  appropriate  to  this  species  of  dis- 
course are  either  external  or  sensible  objects  existmg 
in  space,  or  such  abstract  and  spiritual  objects  as  are 
conceived  of  under  relations  analogous  to  those  of 

space. 

In  truth,  description  embraces  all  subjects  proper  to  be 
presented  as  themes  for  explanation  which  are  not  embraced 
under  narration;  in  other  words,  all  such  as  are  not  regarded 
under  the  relations  of  time,  as  subject  to  succession  or  the 

influence  of  a  cause. 

la  description,  the  subject  is,  thus,  represented  not  as 
hecoming,^s  beginning  to  h^,  growing,  advancing,  but 
only  as  heing,  entirely  irrespectively  of  time.  Lven  events 
may  be  proper  subjects  of  description  where  the.r  relations 
to  time  or  to  a  cause  are  dropped  from  view.  Thus  the 
conflagration  of  a  city  may  be  the  proper  theme  of  d..cnp. 
tion  when  the  aim  of  the  wnter  is  to  set  it  fortli  as  an  o1)- 
kct  of  contemplation  ia  its  several  features  ol  horror; 
when  not  the  progres.  of  the  flumes  and  the  successive  ap. 


I 


.S£ 


DHWCICiFTION. 


65 


peavaiices  which  the  burair.g  city  assumes,  but  the  Fuveral 
constitueat  eieiueuti?  of  the  scene,  as  the  dismay  of  the  iu- 
habitauts,  the  tenilic  ravages  of  the  flames,  the  crashing  of 
walls,  and  the  like,  are  the  particular  objects  of  the  repre- 
sentation. 

This  illustration  w  ill  serve  to  show  how  closely  connected 
are  the  processes  of  narration  and  description.  They  per- 
haps more  commonly  are  fcund  combined  in  the  same  dis- 
course, just  as  multiplicatiou  and  division  are  often  com- 
bined in  the  same  aritluretical  process.  Still  they  are  essen- 
tially distinct  processes;  and  must  be  governed  by  very 
different  principles.  Even  when  combined,  it  is  indispen- 
sable to  the  perfectness  of  the  representation  that  one  be 
made  tliC  pre^  -minant  and  controlling  process,  and  the 
other  be  kept  in  strict  subordination  and  subserviency ;  that 
the  laws  of  the  one  or  the  other  be  made  the  directing  prin- 
ciples in  the  development  and  arrangement. 

The  essential  nature  of  this  process  of  explanation  is  ex- 
emplified in  the  case  of  tiie  description  of  any  particular 
object  that  appears  to  the  senses.  If  a  field,  thus,  were 
to  be  described,  a  point  of  view  would  first  be  selected  the 
most  favorable  for  presenting  the  whole  distinctly  and  fully; 
and  then  from  this  point  of  view  the  various  outlines  and 
boundaries,  as  they  might  be  tracel  from  some  one  point 
easily  distinguished  and  remem;;er -d  around  the  whole  cir- 
cumference to  the  place  of  commencement,  would  be  delinea- 
ted. In  this  way  the  exact  spacial  dimensions  and  relations 
of  the  field  would  be  clearly  and  exactly  pointed  cut. 

§  90.  The  principle  of  arrangement  in  this  process 
is  simple  juxta-position. 

§  91.  Hence  in  d.^sciiption,  tlie  att<'ntion  is  first  di 
-ected  to  some  one  prominent  point  in  the  theme  and 


?     Ij 


gg  EXPLANATION. 

then  the  view  is  directed  successively  from  point  to 

point  along  the  entire  line. 

^  .,  „,-ii  be  sufficient  merely  to  trace  the  out- 

/       ^Uor  and  vivid    representation.     In  ali 
hp  npressarv   to  a  clear  anu  ^im^       f 
be  nects.a  y  ^    conceived  of  as  mapped  out 

:;:::Xd "  dl  descr.,^^^^ 

ac  outlines  and  so  mnch  of  the  con..nts  as  shall  be  neces- 
tv  to  the  oh-ect  of  the  explanation.  The  principle  of 
letliod-juKta-position-forbids  any  such  leaps  in  the  con- 
"n     us  representation  of  the  object  as  would  prevent  the 

:  rfroi  perceiving  the  entire  boundary  of  the  survey. 
Tliis  is  the  great  essential  thing  in  description,  that  the  view 
.iven  be  continuous.  Here,  however,  as  in  narration,  §  81, 
only  points  here  and  there  can  be  taken  which  the  hearer 
„.alt  connect  by  running  the  line,  as  it  were,  in  his  own 
mind  The  speaker  must  take  such  points  as  are  sufficiently 
vicinous-near  each  other  to  enable  him  to  do  this. 

Description,  in  its  strictest  use,  is  confined  to  the  delinea- 
tion  of  the  theme  conceived  as  a  whole.  But  the  simple 
tracin-  of  the  outlines  of  an  object  will  seldom  answer  the 
uim  o'f  the  discourse.  The  process  by  which  the  filling  up 
of  the  outline  is  accomplished,  is,  however,  essentially  dis- 
tinct  from  that  of  pure  description.  It  is,  indeed,  different 
in  different  cases;  and  will  be  particularly  considered  under 
the  following  chapters. 

The  delineation  of  a  sensible  object  existing  in  space  is 
sufficiently  intelligible  witbout  further  explanation.  The 
delineation  of  an  abstract  or  spiritual  theme  is  more  ob- 
scure,  perhaps,  but  perfectly  analogous.  The  more  proper 
form  uf  it  is  deilnition,  of  which  Bluckstone's  dcfinitum  uf 
Municipal  law  will  alVord  a  happy  illustraHou.  "  I  -aw/'  he 
says,  "is  a  rule  of  civil  cuaduct  prescribed  by  the  supreme 


DKSCUIFTION. 


or 


power  of  a  state  commanding  what  is  right  and  prohibiting 
what  is  wrong.'*  J'hese  more  general  boundaric>s,  traced 
out  more  fully  and  completely,  make  up  his  explanation  of 
Municipal  Law. 

^  92.  Unily  in  pure  dcsciiption  requires  not  only 
that  one  object  bo  exhibited  as  the  sole  thing  in  the 
representation,  but  also  that  tnc  point  of  view  from 
wliicli  the  theme  is  regarded,  be  maintained  tlirough- 
out  the  representation ;  or  at  least,  that  the  reader  be 
sulViciently  advised  of  the  change  in  the  point  of  view. 
Such  change  can  be  justilied  only  when  necessary  to 
the  completeness  of  the  view. 

It  is  obvious  that  sometimes  it  may  be  necessary  to  sur- 
vey an  object  from  dill'erent  points  in  order  to  obtain  a  com- 
plete view  of  the  whole.  In  that  case,  however,  care  should 
be  taken  that  the  entire  survey  be  one;  the  outlines  all  har- 
moniiiing  with  one  another.  Unity  thus  would  have  been 
at  once  violated,  if  into  the  definition  of  law  given  above 
there  had  been  introduced  any  view  of  its  relations  to  other 
tilings,  of  its  particular  departments,  of  its  actual  forms 
in  dillerent  nalions,  or  the  like;  as  for  illustration,  if  the 
definition  had  been  constructed  thus;  ^^  Law  is  a  rule  of 
civil  conduct,  prescribed  by  the  supreme  power  of  a  Stnte 
commanding  what  is  right  and  prohibiting  -vhat  is  wrong 
and  is  made  in  the  nature  of  things  obligatory  on  all  the 
subjects  of  the  State/'  Another  view  is  now  presented 
which  it  is  impossible  Tor  the  mind  to  conceive  of  as  forming 
a  constituent  part  in  the  same  picture  with  the  parts  before 

indicated. 

In  the  case  of  the  desciiption  of  sensible  objects,  the 
learner  will  experience  little  difliculty  in  aciuiring  the  habit 
of  representing  to  his  own  mind  the  entire  outline  of  the 


68 


EXPLANATION. 


:,!  'M 


object  to  be  described.  He  should  carefully  accustom  him- 
self  to  this  mode  of  picturing  before  his  own  iniud  such 
objects;  and  before  entering  upon  the  work  ol  cou>position 
he  should  follow  round  the  outline  of  (he  picture  till  he  be- 
CMrv.es  familiar  with  ils  entire  contour  and  sali.ly  hnn.sell 
that  every  feature  to  be  given  is  embraced  in  the  view  Irom 

a  single  point. 

In  the  case  of  abstract  objects  and  truths,  a  higher  power 
of  abstraction  and  a  higher  exertion  of  the  i.nnginatiuu  is 
requisite.  Still  it  lies  within  the  capabilities  ot  the  mmd  to 
acquire  the  power  of  picturing  before  itself  even  abstract 
objects-  of  placing  their  outlines  in  proper  order  of  juxta- 
position in  a  single  menfal  picture.  This  is  the  actual  at- 
tainment of  an  accomplished  writer.  It  is  the  aim  which 
every  student  of  rhetoric  should  propose  to  himself  and 
steadily  pursue  in  continued  and  laborious  practice  till  he  is 
conscious  of  having  fully  achieved  his  object. 

It  may  assist  the  full  apprehension  of  what  is  meant  by 
this  men'tal  picturing,  to  present  the  following  illust^ration 
from  Dr.  Barrow's  description  of  ^^  contentedness.''  He 
describes  this  quality  chiefly  by  its  '  acts:  In  other  words, 
the  ''acts"  in  which  the  practice  of  the  virtue  consists 
furnish  the  point  of  observation  from  which  he  views  it. 
And  the  point  of  departure  in  tracing  his  mental  survey  is 
one  of  the  exercises  of  the  understanding.  This  class  of  exer- 
cises constitute  one  outline  of  the  feature.  A  second  side  is 
then  run  consisting  of  the  exercises  of  the  will  or  appetite. 
And  the  third  side  completing  the  view  is  the  outward  de- 
meanor. The  particulars  which  fill  up  Ibis  general  survey 
are  on  the  first  side,  or  acts  of  the  understanding,  1.  a  belief 
that  all  events  are  ordered  by  God;  2.  that  they  are  conse- 
quently good  and  fit;  3.  that  they  are  conducive  to  our  par- 
ticular welfare;  4.   that  our  present   condition,   all  things 


i\ 


DKSCnn'TlON. 


69 


considered,  is  the  best  for  us.     On   the  second  side,  or  the 
exercises  of  the  will  or  inclinalion,  are  the  particulars  of  1. 
submission  to  the  will  of  God;  2   calmness  and  composed- 
ness;  3.  cheerfulness  in  bearing  the  worst  events;  4.  hope 
of  the  timely  removal  or  alleviation  of  afOiction;  5.  yielding 
to  no   faintness   or   languishing;  G.  endeavors  against  be- 
comin"- weary  of  our  condition;  7.  meekness  and  pliancy 
of   temper;    8.  kindness;    9.  freedom   fr<im    solicitude  and 
anxiety.      On  the   third    side,  or  particidars   of    outward 
practice  and  endeavor,  are  1.  suppression  of  unseemly  ex- 
pressions; 2.  forbearing  complaint  or  murmuring;  3.  declara- 
tions of  satisfaction  with  the  allotments  of  providence;  4. 
abstaining  from  improper  attempts  to  remove  or  remedy  our 
crosses;  5.  discharge  of  our   duties   with   alacrity;  6.  fair 
and  kind  behavior  towards  the  instruments  or   abettors  of 
our  adversity.     This  description,  it  will  be  remarked,  is  sus- 
ceptible  of  being  pictured   as  a  single  although   complex 
object  before  the  mind.     It  has  unity;  it  has  method;  it  has 
completeness. 

§  93.  It  is  essential  to  the  completeness  of  the  de- 
scrii)tion  that  the  survey  of  the  object  be  also  complete; 
that  no  side,  as  it  were,  of  the  field,  be  left  out  of 
view,  or  be  imperfectly  represented. 

In  the  definition  given  of  Municipal  Law  from  Black- 
stone,  if  any  part,  as  for  instance,  the  phrase,  '^prescribed 
by  the  supreme  power  of  a  state,"  or,  '^forbidding  what  is 
wrong/'  had  been  omitted,  the  description  would  have  been 
incontplete.     One    side    jf    the    survey   would    have    beea 

omitted. 


KXl'liANATlON. 


ClIAPrKil  IV. 


1^ 


I   'i 

i 


OF    ANALYSIS. 

§  91.  The  analytic  process  of  explanation 
consists  in  the  resolving  or  separating  of  the  theme 
into  its  component  parts  and  the  successive  enumera- 
tion  of  these  parts. 

§  95.  The  subjects  appropriate  to  this  process  rre 
all  themes  which  can  be  regarded  as  composed  of 
parts.  Both  events  and  operations  of  causes,  as  well 
as  objects  conceived  of  under  the  relations  of  space  or 
irrespectively  of  time.  pro\  ided  they  may  be  regarded 
as  consisting  of  parts,  arc  accordingly  embraced  in  the 
themes  appropriate  to  this  process. 

This  process  differs  essentially  from  narration  and  de- 
scription in  this  respect,  that  in  the  two  latter  processes,  the 
object  whether  regarded  in  time  or  space,  is  viewed  as  one 
undivided  whole;  while  in  analysis  it  is  viewed  in  its  parts. 
In  regard  to  outward  sensible  objects  the  distinction  is  gen- 
erally wide  and  obvious.  In  the  discussion  of  abstract 
or  spiritual  themes,  the  processes  will  often  be  the  same 
vi'hether  regulated  by  the  laws  of  narration  or  division;  of 
description  or  partition. 

§  96.  Analysis  is  frequently  combined  with  the  pro- 
cesses of  narration  and  description  in  the  same  dis- 
course. It  is,  however,  distinct  from  them  for  the  most 
part,  and  precedes  those  processes,  observing  its  own 
laws.  The  theme  is  thus  fust  analysed ;  and  then  the 
processes  of  narration  and  description  are  applied  to 
the  parts  as  they  are  successively  presented  ;  or  if  it 
occur  in  the  course  of  the  narration  or  description,  it 


IS  applied  to  some  siiborduiai 

which    is  then,  under  this  an 

scribed.     The  particular  parts 

ed,  moreover,  in  analysis,  in 

efl(  ot  of  the  representation  of  t 

and  not  exactly  .is  they  would 

if  represented  separately  and  I 

The  explanation  of  the  theme  n 

complete  even  when  the  process  s 

enumeration  of  the  parts.     The 

erly  regard  his  work  as  c  »mplet( 

into  its  constituent  parts,  and  the 

one  in  order.     He  may,  however 

fartlier.       He  may    describe    si 

presented  to  view  in  a  process 

again,  as  a  physiologist,  he  may 

and  growth  of  each  particular  pf 

He  must,  however,  first  analy 

narration  of  each  particular  part 

in  reference  to  the  combi  'mI  elTe( 

Otherwise  he  would  not  only  fal 

repetitions,  but  his  explanation  v 

lar  and  out  of  proportion.     It  w 

of  independent  and  unrelated  ex; 

ued  and  entire,  although  comple: 

§  97.  Analysis  embraces  t 

cesses  which  rest  ultimately  ( 

of  narration  and  description. 

partition. 

§  98.  In  DIVISION  the  the 
posed  of  similar  parts ;  and 
era,  species,  varieties. 


ANALYSTS.  71 

IS  applied  to  s;onio  stibordmai  art  of  tlie  explnnation 
which  is  then,  iiiulcr  this  analysis,  narrated  or  de- 
scribed. The  particular  parts  arc  nurrated  or  dej-rrib- 
ed,  moreover,  in  analysis,  in  reference  to  the  entire 
effect  of  the  representation  of  the  one  tb'  ne  analysed; 
and  not  cxactl>  .is  they  would  be  narrated  or  described 
if  represented  separately  and  for  their  own  sake. 

The  explanation  of  the  theme  may  be,  to  a  cert  dn  degree, 
complete  even  when  the  process  stops  with  the  anah  >!  and 
enumeration  of  the  parts.  The  anatomist  may  thus  prop- 
erly regard  his  work  as  <  .mpleted,  if  he  analyse  the  body 
into  its  constituent  parts,  and  then  exhibit  the  parts  one  by 
one  in  order.  He  may,  however,  carry  the  explanation  still 
farther.  He  may  describe  singly  each  part  as  it  is 
presented  to  view  in  a  process  of  pure  de..  nption.  Or 
again,  as  a  physiologist,  he  may  narrate  the  development 
and  growth  of  each  particular  part  presented. 

He  must,  however,  first  analyse:  and  his  description  or 
narration  of  each  particular  part  must,  obviously,  be  made 
in  reference  to  the  combi  -^d  effect  of  the  whole  explanation. 
Otherwise  he  would  not  only  fall  into  useless  and  tedious 
repetitions,  but  his  explanation  would  be  multiform,  irregu- 
lar and  out  of  proportion.  It  would  rather  be  a  collection 
of  independent  and  unrelated  explanations  than  one  contin- 
ued and  entire,  although  complex,  process  of  explanation. 

§  97.  Analysis  embraces  two  distinct  specific  pro- 
cesses which  rest  ultimately  on  the  distinctive  natures 
of  narration  and  description.  They  arc  division  and 
partition. 

§  98.  In  DIVISION  the  theme  is  regarded  as  com- 
posed of  simUar  parts;  and  the  analysis  is  into  gen- 
era, species,  varieties. 


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72 


EXPLANATION. 


Thus  the  analytic  explanation  of  the  theme  "animal"  by 
division  would  be  effected  by  the  successive  enumeration  of 
the  dififerent  genera  which  it  embraces,  as  fish,  fowl,  beast, 
&c.,  or,  if  the  process  vvere  carried  farther,  of  the  species 
and  varieties  under  these  respective  genera  or  classes. 

The  relation  of  division  to  narration  is  seen  in  this,  that 

both  involve  an  ultimate  reference  to  a  cause.     Since  that 

•    similarity  in  different  individuals  or  species  which  enables 

us  to  classify  them  into  species  or  genera,    we  necessarily 

regard  as  the  effect  of  the  same  or  a  similar  cause. 

§  99.  Ill  PARTITION,  the  theme  is  regarded  as  made 
up  of  parts  lying  in  juxta-position  merely,  without 
reference  to  any  similarity  in  their  nature. 

In  partition,  thus,  ''  animal "  would  be  analysed  into 
head,  body,  limbs,  and  the  like.  In  this  kind  of  analysis, 
no  reference  is  had  to  the  similarity  of  structure  in  the 
analysis;  but  merely  to  the  juxta-position  of  the  parts. 

The  affinity  of  this  process  to  description  is  obvious  from 
the  very  terms  which  we  find  it  necessary  to  employ  in  order 
to  explain  it.  Both  processes  regard  objects  in  space.  The 
one,  description,  regards  them  as  individual  wholes,  the 
boundaries  or  outlines  of  which  are  to  be  marked  out  in 
order  to  explain  them.  The  other,  partition,  contemplates 
them  as  filling  a  certain  extent  of  space;  and  enumerates 
successively  the  portions  that  occupy  it.  We  describe  "a 
tree  "  by  delineating  its  form  and  shape.  In  partition,  it  is 
represented  as  composed  of  trunk  and  limbs  and  foliage;  its 
various  shades  and  hues  are  exhibited.  In  description,  the 
object  is  represented  by  the  lines  that  bound  it — by  'te 
periphery;  in  partition,  by  the  parts  that  compose  it— Dy 
its  segments. 

§  IDO.  The  unity  in   division  consists  in  the 


ANALYSIS. 


73 


the 


singleness  of  the  class  which  is  to  be  divided  into  its 
species  and  varieties  and  in  the  singleness  of  the  prin- 
ciple of  division. 

That  the  theme  must  be  but  one  whole  to  be  divided  is 
too  palpable  a  truth  to  need  any  proof  or  i.'.lustration.  There 
is  little  danger  that  this  more  general  unity  will  be  violated 
bv  any  one  who  has  any  conception  whatever  of  unity  in 
discourse. 

But  mere  unity  in  the  theme,  or  in  the  general  process  of 
explaining  it  is  not  enough.  It  is  necessaiy  in  this  process 
of  explication  that  there  be  but  one  principle  of  division; 
Ihut  is,  that  the  species  into  which  the  whole  is  divided  all 
stand  in  the  same  generic  relation  ,  the  whole.  Every  ge- 
neric or  '^common"  term  may  be  distributed  into  diverse 
series  of  species.  "Man/*  thus,  may  be  distributed  into 
one  set  of  species  in  reference  to  color;  into  another,  in 
reference  to  place  of  habitation  or  to  lineage;  into  a  third 
in  reference  to  sex  or  condition,  &c.  Unity  forbids  the 
,  distribution  into  different  sets  of  such  species. 

This,  at  least,  is  the  strictest  unity  in  division.  If  for 
any  purpose,  it  is  necessary  to  represent  the  theme  in  respect 
to  several  sets  of  species,  that  is,  adopt  more  than  one  prin- 
ciple of  division,  the  two  divisions  should  be  kept  carefully 
distinct;  and  the  discourse  must  find  its  principle  of  unity 
in  some  higher  point  than  the  division. 

In  abstract  subjects,  especially  in  the  explication  of  truths 
or  propositions,  there  is  a  peculiar  liability  to  a  neglect  of 
unity  in  division.  It  becomes  necessary  in  order  to  avoid 
this  fault  to  seize  firmly  the  particular  principle  of  division 
that  is  adopted  in  the  case  and  carefully  inquire,  in  the 
analysis  into  the  several  species,  whether  each  one  is  deter- 
mined by  that  principle  or  belongs  to  that  set  of  species 
whjcl"  thft  adopted  principle  of  division  will  furnish. 

7 


I 


74 


EXPLANATION. 


It  will  be  observed  that  unity  does  not  forbid  the  applica- 
tion of  different  principles  to  different  grades  of  species. 
"Duties/*  may  thus  be  classed,  iirst,  in  reference  to  the 
object  to  which  they  are  rendered;  as  to  God,  to  fellow-crea- 
tures, to  one^s  self;  or  religious,  social,  and  personal.  These 
species,  further,  may  be  divided  in  respect  to  the  occasions 
of  their  performance  or  the  powers  concerned  in  them. 
Religious  duties  may  thus  be  subdivided  into  private  and 
public.  The  object  to  which  the  duty  is  to  be  paid  is  here 
the  principle  of  division  into  the  higher  species;  the  occa- 
sion of  its  performance,  that  of  division  into  the  lower 
species.  There  is  in  such  a  division,  evidently,  no  confu- 
sion, and  no  violation  of  unity. 

§  101.  Completeness  in  division  lequiies  that  all 
the  species  of  varieties  which  are  furnished  by  the 
principle  of  division  be  distinctly  enumerated. 

If  thus  in  the  enumeration  of  the  varieties  of  mixed  gov- 
ernments only  those  of  the  monarchical  and  aristocratic, 
the  monarchical  and  democratic,  and  the  aristocratic  and 
democratic  were  enumerated,  the  Spartan  constitution  and 
those  like  it  which  embrace  the  features  of  all  the  three  pure 
forms  of  government  would  be  omitted.  The  division 
would  not  be  complete. 

§  102.  The  principle  op  arrangement  in  di- 
vision hes  in  the  relation  of  the  species  or  varieties 
furnished  in  the  division  to  each  other  and  to  the  par- 
ticular object  of  the  discourse. 

As  the  parts  sustain  the  same  relation  to  the  whole,  it 
is  clear,  that  we  can  find  here  no  guide  to  arrangement. 

Generally  in  division  there  will  be  found  some  one  specie* 
oi:  part  which  will  rank  first  in  importance,  in  interest,  in 
obviousness.     Around  this,  in  respect  to  their  approxima 


ANALYSIS. 


75 


tions  to  it,  the  other  i>arts  should  be  arranged.  In  the  enu- 
meration of  duties  in  reference  to  the  object  to  which  they 
are  rendered,  those  to  God,  are,  thus,  evidently  of  the  high- 
est rank.  This  class,  therefore,  will  determine  the  mode  of 
arrangement  in  reference  to  the  order  in  which  they  should 
be  presented. 

The  object  of  the  discourse,  however,  will  determine 
whether  the  most  prominent  or  important  part  should  be 
made  the  first  or  the  last  of  the  series.  If  the  writer  wishes 
to  leave  the  mind  of  the  reader  peculiarly  interested  in  one 
particular  part,  even  although  it  be  the  least  important  con- 
sidered merely  in  relation  to  the  parts  themselves,  it  will 
naturally  be  exhibited  last  in  the  series.  In  the  example 
given  above,  for  instance,  if  the  object  of  the  speaker  were 
to  leave  the  duties  to  God  impressed  most  strongly  on  the 
mind,  he  would  name  this  species  last.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  personal  duties  were  those  to  be  more  distinctly 
impressed  at  the  time,  this  species  would  occupy  the  last 
place. 

The  relation  of  the  parts  to  each  other,  thus,  determines 
the  order  of  the  series;  the  object  of  the  discourse,  whether 
the  «)rder  in  which  they  shall  be  presented  be  direct  or  in- 
verse. 

§  103.  The  unity  in  partition  consists  in  the 
singleness  of  the  object  to  be  analysed,  and,  more  nar- 
rowly, in  the  singleness  of  the  point  of  view  from 
which  the  object  is  regarded. 

The  same  observations  apply  here  as  to  description. 
While  in  order  to  unity  there  must  be  a  single  object,  ther*^ 
must,  at  the  same  time,  be  one  point  selected  from  which 
the  parts  shall  be  exhibited  to  view. 

The  theme,  even  although   abstract  or  spiritual,  is  here 


re 


r.xin.ANATiov. 


U  if  'ii 

Hill 


recrarded  under  the  analuoy  of  the  relations  of  space.  It  is 
laid  out  as  a  field  before  the  view.  The  lines  of  partition 
need  to  be  run  from  one  point,  or  there  will  be  contusion 

and  perplexity.  .,,...  a 

If  for  any  purpose  different  views  ot  the  object  be  need- 
ul   the  first  view  should  be  completed,  and  then  advic-  be 
.iv'en  of  the  change  of  position.     Still  further,  the  different 
views  should  be  complements  of  one  another,  so  that  all 
taken  to^-ether  shall  constitute  one  whole. 

If  ''  prudence  "  thus  be  taken  as  the  theme  of  explana- 
tion by  analysis,  unity  requires  first,  that  the  general  view 
to  be  oiven  of  it  be  determined,  whether  in  reference  to  its 
essenttal  nature,  its  rank  among  the  virtues,  its  importance 
or  some  other  particular  aspect  of  it:  in  the  next  place  that 
for  this  particular  view,  one  point  be  chosen  from  which  the 
survey  shall  be  made.  If  the  nature  of  prudence  be  the 
more 'closely  defined  theme  of  the  discussion,  then  it  should 
be  viewed  either  from  its  constituent  properties,  as  wak'ul- 
ness  obsarvation,  deliberation  and  the  lik. ;  or  from  its 
ori^^in  and  development,  as  constitutional  temperament,  ex- 
peilnce,  discipline;  or  from  its  effects  on  personal  happiness 

o«-  efficiency. 

R  104  Completeness  in  partition  requires  a  sur- 
vey of  the  entire  field  which  the  theme  occupies  and 
a  distinct  representation  of  every  part. 

A  partition  which  should  merely  enumerate  a  part  of  the 
constituent  properties  of  -prudence"  would  thus  be  faulty 
\n  respect  of  completeness. 

R  105  The  principle  of  arrangement  in  par- 
tition, as  in  division,  is  to  be  found  in  the  relations  of 
the  parts  to  each  c^her  and  to  the  particular  object  of 
ihe  discourse. 


ANALYSIS. 


.    77 

In  partition,  the  relations  of  the  parts  •  each  other  will 
be  those  of  space  or,  in  abstract  and  spiritual  themes,  such 
as  are  analogous.  Thus  in  the  enumeration  of  the  constitu- 
ent  properties  of  '^prudence,''  the  parts  will  be  conceived 
of  as  pictured  out  before  the  eye  and  arranged  in  regaid  to 
position  according  to  the  order  of  dependence,  as  wakefulness, 
observation,  deliberation,  &c. 

Whether  the  series   should  be  presented  directly  or  in- 
versely must  be  determined  by  the  object  of  the  discourse. 

§  106.  From  the  very  nature  of  the  two  processes 
of  analysis,  by  division  and  partition,  it  will  be  evi- 
dent  that  while  only  generic  or  '^  common  »  terms  are 
appropriate  subjects  for  division,  only  individual  terms 
belong  to  partition.  If  a  "term"  which  may  in  oi.e 
aspect  be  correctly  regarded  as  "common"  be  rmalysed 
by  partition,  it  will  nevertheless  in  the  analysis  be 
viewed  only  as  individual.  This  principle  will,  to  a 
certain  extent,  determine  the  boundaries  between  the 
two  classes  of  subjects. 

All  events,  as  they  are  individual  although  complex,  can 
be  analysed  only  by  partition.  So,  likewise,  all  individual 
objects  in  space,  as  a  tree,  a  landscape,  a  city,  belong  to 
partition.  Words,  phrases,  generally  all  exegelzcal  themes, 
as  of  Scripture  texts  and  propositions  to  be  explained  as  to 
their  terms  and  the  nature  of  the  judgment  expressed  id 
them,  likewise  belong  to  this  class. 

Other  themes  may  be  analysed  by  division  or  by  parti 
tion,  according  as  they  are  viewed  generically  or  not.       • 


7* 


7P 


EXPLANATIOI*. 


(: 


CHAPTER  V. 


i3>il 


OP    EXEMPLIFICATION. 

§  107.  Exemplification  is  that  process  of  expla- 
nation in  which  the  theme  regaided  as  a  whole  is 
represented  through  one  of  its  parts  taken  as  an  ex- 
ample of  the  whole. 

As  this  process  rests  ultimately  on  our  belief  that  nature 
works  uniformly,  or  that  similar  causes  are  connected  with 
similar  effects,  it  bears  a  close  affinity  to  narration,  and  also 
to  analysis  by  division.  Indeed  it  might,  with  some  pro- 
priety, be  regarded  as  an  imperfect  species  of  division.  It 
dilfers  from  it  in  this  respect  that,  while  in  division  all  the 
parts  are  enumerated,  in  exemplification  only  ove  is  pre- 
sented. This  process,  is,  however,  widely  distinguished'^ 
from  proper  division  in  regard  ia  the  principles  which  gov- 
ern it  and  the  form  which  it  takes. 

Exemplification  is  one  of  the  most  effective  and  interest- 
ing processes  of  explanation.  Almost  all  our  knowledge 
comes  in  this  way.  It  corresponds  to  the  process  of  induc- 
tion in  conviction.  From  observing  the  manner  in  which 
one  particular  seed  germinates  and  grows  and  matures  its 
fruii,  we  learn  how  vegetation  proceeds  generally.  Under- 
standing how  one  process  in  mathematical  science  is  per- 
formed, we  understand  how  al'  processes  governed  by  the 
same  principle  may  be  performed.  We  learn  from  the 
exercise  of  a  virtue  in  one  set  of  circumstances  what  its 
nature  and  power  and  beauty  must  be  in  other  circumstan- 
ces. As  thus  the  most  familiar  process  and  the  best  adapted 
to  the  human  mind,  it  is  most  readily  apprehended. 

§  108.  From  the  nature  of  this  process  it  is  evident 
that  THE  SUBJECTS  appropriate  to  it  must  be  g'oiieral 


EXEMPLIFICATION. 


79 


or  "common"  which  are  to  be  explained  by  more 
specific  or  individual  truths  or  facts. 

In  exemplification,  thus,  a  general  principle  of  conduct  is 
explained  by  the  exhibition  of  a  particular  act  in  which  it 
was  manifested.  The  principle  of  patriotism  is  exemplified 
in  tlie  self-devotion  of  a  Spartan  hero;  of  justice  lu  the 
stern  decision  of  a  Brutus;  of  christian  heroism  in  the  mar- 
tyr at  the  stake. 

General  truths,  also,  are  exemplified  by  some  particular 
truth  which  they  comprehend.  That  virtue  is  its  own  re- 
ward is  exemplified,  thus,  in  the  elevated  peace  and  happi- 
ness which  follow  a  particular  deed  of  self-denying  benev- 
olence. General  facts,  likewise,  are  exemplified  in  some 
particular  instance.  The  circulation  of  the  sap  in  vegetation 
is  explained  by  an  exhibition  of  it  in  a  single  plant. 

■§  109.  Exemplification  readily  combines  with  other 
processes  in  explanation  without  involving  much  lia- 
bility to  a  loss  of  unity. 

Perhaps  the  only  liabiUties  to  a  violation  of  unity  lie  in 
the  possibility  of  selecting  an  example  which  does  not  prop, 
erlv  fall  within  the  general  truth  to  be  explained;  or  in  the 
multiplication  of  examples  to  such  a  degree  as  to  hide  from 
view  the  real  truth  to  be  explained. 

^  110  In  the  selection  of  examples,  such  as  are 
most  striking,  most  intelligible,  most  interesting  to  the 
hearer  are  ever  to  be  preferred;  since  by  such  the 
object  of  speaking  is  best  accomplished,  which  is  to 
secure  the  clear  and  full  understanding  of  the  heme 
by  the  hearer. 

^  111.  When  the  example  has  been  selected  and 
the  general  form  in  which  it  may  be  l)est  introduced 


80  EX  PL  A  NATION, 

to  accomplish  the  object  of  the  speaker  has  been  do 
termined,  the  actual  exhibition  of  the  examplo  will  be 
effected  by  some  other  process  of  explanation,  as  of 
narration,  description  w  analysis.  It  will  accordingly 
conform  to  the  principles  that  control  those  processes. 


m 


CHAPTER  VL 

OP    COMPARISON    AND    CONTRAST. 

§  112.  While  in  exemplification,  a  more  ^enenc 
truth  or  fact  is  explained  by  a  more  specific  or  an  in- 
dividual truth  or  fact  embraced  under  it,  in  compari- 
son AND  contrast  a  truth  or  fact  is  explained  by 
another  of  the  same  class. 

If  this  process  be  investigated  in  its  fundamental  princ'- 
ples,  it  will  be  found  that  it  necessarily  rests  on  the  idea  of 
a  similarity  in  things  which  may  furnish  a  foundation  for 
arranging  them  into  classes.     It  presupposes,  indeed,  a  classr 
to  which  the  themes  compared  or  contrasted  alike  belong 
In  comparison  these  points  of  resemblance  are  directly  pre 
sjented.    In  contrast,  there  must  be  a  resemblance  or  simi 
larity  in  some  respect  or  there  can  be  no  ground  on  which 
the  contrast  can  rest.      We  cannot  contrast  an  eruption  of 
Vesuvius  with  the  proposition  that  the  angle*  of  a  triangle 
are  equivalent  to  two  right  angles,  because  they  cannot  bw 
arranged  together  under  any  class  or  any  similarity  between 
them  of  which  use  can  be  made  in  discourse. 

This  process  differs,  thus,  from  exemplification  in  the  cir* 
<}amstance  that  while  in  the  latter,  the  relation  of  the  genus 
to  the  species  or  individual  is  involved,  in  the  formn   there 


coMPAinaox  and  contuast. 


81 


U  invo 


Ived  the  relation  of  one  individual  or  species  ♦o  an- 
other through  the  claas  to  which  they  both  belong.  The 
relation  in  the  one  case  is  single;  in  the  other  it  is  double.^ 

Skill  in  the  use  of  this  process  will,  accordingly,  depem'/ 
chiefly  on  a  clear  and  firm  apprehension  of  the  coniinou 
class  to  which  the  things  compared  or  contrasted  alike  be» 
long 

§  113.  In  comparison  ihc  theme  is  represented  in 
the  exhibition  of  those  particulars  in  anotlier  of  the 
same  class  which  are  common  to  the  two ;  and  the 
attention  is  directed  to  the  points  of  resemblance. 

In  contrast  the  two  objects  of  the  same  class  are 
represented  in  the  light  of  the  opposition  which  in 
some  respect  they  bear  to  each  other. 

The  chief  magistracy  of  a  republic  may  be  explained  in 
co7nparison  by  an  exhibition  of  the  functions,  relations  and 
influences  of  the  Kingly  office  in  unlimited  monarchy,  so  far 
as  they  are  common  to  both.  It  represents  the  nation;  is 
the  center  of  unity  to  them;  is  first  among  them;  lead"^ 
them;  administers  law  for  them,  and  the  like.  It  may  be 
explained  in  contrast  by  the  points  of  opposition.  The 
king  in  a  pure  monarchy  is  the  end,  and  the  state  the  means; 
the^president  in  a  republic  is  the  means,  the  state  the  end. 
The  one  absorbs  the  state  in  himself;  the  other  is  absorbed 
in  it.  The  one  uses  all  the  energies  of  the  state  for  his  own 
pleasure;  the  other  uses  his  for  the  state. 

Thus,  also,  truth  and  error  may  be  compared  as  states  of 
mind,  occasioned  and  determined  by  similar  causes,  &c. 
They  may  be  contrasted  in  their  opposite  natures  and  influ- 
ences. 

§  114.  In  comparison  and  contrast,  the  resemblance 
in  the  one  case  and  the  opposition  in  the  other,  may 


82 


FXrii  A  NATION. 


i 


lie  in  the  constituent  natures  or  properties  of  the 
objects  compared  or  contrasted,  or  in  tiie  relations 
which  they  sustain.  In  tlie  former  case  the  process  is 
denominated  dirkct  or  simple  comparison  or 
CONTRAST ;  in  tlie  latter  case,  it  is  denominated 
ANALOGICAL  COMPARISON  or  CONTRAST,  or  generally, 

ANALOGY. 

Virtue  and  vice  are  compared  or  contrasted  directly  when 
represented  as  moral  states  i-esembling  or  diirering  from 
each  otlier  in  respect  of  their  essential  character  or  ])roper- 
ties.  As  virtue,  thus,  implies  intelligence  and  free  choice, 
so  also  does  vice.  But  as  virtue  consists  in  a  regard  paid 
to  the  principles  of  rectitude;  vice  consists  in  a  disregard 
of  them.       "^ 

They  are  analogically  compared  or  contrasted  when  ex- 
hibited in  their  relations  to  some  third  thing.  Virtue  is 
related  to  happiness  as  its  appropriate  and  natural  conse- 
quence; vice  to  misery. 

§  115.  In  the  selection  of  the  objects  of  comparison 
or  of  contrast,  the  same  principles  apply  as  in  the  case 
of  exemplification,  §  110.  They  should  be  striking, 
familiar,  interesting. 

Farther,  in  comparison,  those  objects  of  the  same 
class  should  be  selected  which  are  most  unlike  the 
theme  to  be  explained ;  while  in  contrast,  it  is  condu- 
cive to  clearness  and  effect  to  select  those  most  resem- 
bling it. 

The  \  ciple  in  the  latter  directions  of  this  section  is  the 
same  in  the  two  cases.  The  mind,  when  there  are  but  few 
points  of  resemblance,  in  comparison,  or  of  opposition  in 
contrast,  is  not  disturbed  and  perplexed  by  many  features 
ctowding  on  the  view. 


INTRODUCTION  AND  PERORATION. 


83 


§  116.  This  process  readily  mingles  in  the  same 
discourse  with  the  other  processes.  It  is  commended 
by  the  same  advantages  generally  that  attend  exem- 
plification. It  is  sometimes  the  only  convenient  pro- 
cess of  explanation. 

§  117.  The  subjects  appropriate  to  this  pfi'ocess  are 
either  generic  or  individual.  The  exhibition  of  the 
object  with  which  the  theme  is  compared  or  contrasted 
is  efTo^ted  by  the  processes  before  described. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

OF  THE  INTRODUCTION  AND  PERORATION  IN  EX- 
planatory discourse. 

§  118.  The  explanatory  introduction  §  68, 
will  often  be  useful  in  this  species  of  discourse  for  the 
purpose  of  bringing  the  theme  more  directly  before 
the  mind ;  or  for  facihcating  the  ready  apprehension 
of  the  discussion  itself. 

In  a  history  of  Greece,  it  may  be  necessary  in  order  to 
exhibit  more  distinctly  to  the  reader  of  what  people  the 
history  is  to  treat,  to  describe  the  country  itself  geographi- 
cally, which  the  people  inhabit.  Such  a  geographical  de- 
scription, may,  also,  help  the  reader  to  understand  the  nar- 
rative itself.  It  may,  moreover,  explain  the  mode  of  con- 
structing the  history. 

In  a  description  of  the  virtue  of  -discretion,''  an  explan- 
atory  introduction  may  usefully  indicate  the  relation  of  this 
to  other  virtues,  or  exhibit  an  occasion  of  its  exercise  lor 


ti  i'l  ■' 


84 


EXFuANATlOxV. 


the  purpose  of  a  more  explicit  statement  of  the  theme.  It 
may  appropriately,  also,  so  far  exhibit  the  light  in  which 
the  theme  is  to.  be  contemplated,  or  explain  the  particular 
mode  of  discharging  it,  as  that  the  whole  description  shall 
be  more  fully  and  correctly  understood. 

&  119.  The  introduction  conciliatory  will 
respect  the  occasion  of  the  discourse,  the  theme  itself, 
the  mode  of  discussing  it,  or  the  speaker  personally ;  as 
it  is  evident  that  from  these  various  sources  either  a 
favorable  or  an  unfavorable  disposition  may  arise  in 
the  minds  of  the  hearers. 

It  Js  less  often  the  case  in  explanatory  than  in  any  othei 
species  of  discourse  that  this  kind  of  introduction  is  neces- 
sary. Still  it  will  be  well  ever  to  inquire  whether  from 
any  of  the  sources  enumerated  there  can  arise  any  feeling 
or  opinion  unfavorable  to  the  full  understanding  of  the  dis' 
cussion.  or  any  interest  to  be  awakened  from  any  one  of 
them  that  shall  secure  a  more  earnest  attention, 

§  120.  The  peroration  in  explanatory  discourse 
may  be  in  any  of  the  particular  forms  enumerated  in 

§70. 

The  peroration  explanatory  will  apply  the  repre- 
sentation either  to  some  particular  theme  contained  in 
the  more  general  one  that  has  been  discussed,  or  to 
some  kindred  subject. 

The  peroration  confirmatory  will  be  in  the  form 
of  an  inference  reaaily  deduced  from  the  view  that 
has  been  given. 

Tlie  peroration  excitatory  will  apply  the  general 
theme  or  some  view  taken  of  it  to  the  excitement  of 
4he  a.ppropriate  feelings. 


INTRODUCTION    AND    r'ERORATION.  85 

Tlie  peroration  persuasive  will  address  the  theme 
or  some  view  taken  of  it  to  the  will  as  an  inducement 
to  some  act. 

§  121.  If  various  forms  of  the  peroration  be  em- 
ployed, the  principle  laid  down  in  §  57,  requires  that 
the  respective  forms  employed  succeed  each  other  in 
the  order  in  which  they  are  stated  in  the  preceding 
section. 


'  li 


PART    II.— CONFIRMATION. 


CHAPTER  1. 

GENERAL    INTRODUCTORY    VIEW. 

§  122.  In  coNFiRM.vrroN,  the  object  of  discourse 
is  to  convince ;  in  other  words,  to  lead  to  a  new  behef 
or  judgment,  or  to  modify  one  aheady  existing  in  the 
mind. 

Here  Ues  the  essential  distinction  between  explanation  and 
coniirmation.  While  both  processes  address  the  under- 
standing, the  former  seeks  to  produce  a  new  or  different 
perceptfon,  the  latter,  a  new  or  different  belief  or  judgment. 

§  123.  As  a  judgment  is  ever  expressed  in  a  logical 
proposition,  the  theme  in  confirmation  must  ever  be  in 
the  form  of  a  logical  proposition;  the  truth  of  which 
is  to  be  established  in  the  mind  of  the  hearer. 

In  this  respect  confirmatory  discourse  differs  from  all 
other  kinds;  as  in  those  the  theme  is  always  a  conception. 

It  may  be  observed  here  that  while  the  theme  in  confir- 
mation must  always  admit  of  being  expressed  in  the  form 
of  a  logical  proposition,  having  subject,  predicate  and  copula, 
aud  so  far  as  stated  must  imply  this,  it  is  not  necessary 
always  that  it  be  actually  expressed  in  discourse  in  the  strict 
technical  form  of  such  a  proposition.     Thus  (he  tlieme  of  a 


INTRODUCTORY    VIEW. 

discourse,  the  object  of  which  is  to  prove  that  "the  soul  is 
immortal/'  may  be  stated  in  the  form  of  "the  immortality 
of  the  soul/' 

§  124.  Confirmation  in  rhetorical  invention  agrees 
with  the  process  of  investigation  in  the  circumstances 
that  both  processes  properly  respect  a  judgment,  and 
that  both  are  controlled  by  the  same  logical  princi- 
ples. It  differs  from  investigation  in  the  respect  that 
the  judgment  is  already  known  in  confirmation  both 
in  its  matter  and  in  its  truth,  while  in  investigation 
either  the  truth  or  both  the  matter  and  tlie  truth  of 
the  judgment  are  unknown. 

In  undertaking  the  work  of  confirmation  or  convincing, 
the  speaker  must  -J  course  know  the  matter  of  the  judg- 
ment which  he  is  to  establish.  He  must  be  regarded,  also, 
as  believing  it  himself  and  of  course  of  knowing  the  evi- 
dence on  which  it  rests.  He  professes  this  in  undertaking 
to  convince.  He  must  know,  thus,  both  the  matter  of  the 
proposition  and  its  truth. 

In  investigation,  on  the  other  hand,  it  may  be  wholly  un- 
known whether  there  is  such  a  truth  as  the  process  of  in- 
vestigation may  lead  to  as  its  proper  result.  Known  truth 
may  be  taken,  and  by  the  application  to  them  of  variou 
principles  of  reasoning,  entirely  new  truths  may  be  ascer- 
tained and  proved  in  the  very  process  of  investigation. 
The  mathematical  analyst,  thus,  applies  to  an  assumed  for- 
mula certain  processes  by  which  its  members  are  changed 
in  their  form  and  comes  thus  to  new  truths— to  truths,  per- 
haps, of  which  he  had  never  dreamed  until  they  stood  out 
proved  before  his  eye. 

More  commonly,  however,  in  investigation  the  truth  is  at 
least  guessed  at,  or  conceived  as  possible.     The  matter  oi 


3S 


CONFIRMATION. 


the  judgment  is  before  the  mind,  and  the  process  of  investi- 
gation consists  in  the  discovery  of  the  proof  on  which  the 
truth  of  it  rests. 

Confirmation  employs  the  results  of  this  discovery  for  the 
conviction  of  another  mind.  This  latter  species  of  investi- 
gation, therefore,  which  respects  the  proof  on  which  an 
assumed  or  conjectural  truth  rests,  coincides  to  a  certain 
degree  with  invention  in  confirmation.  For  it  is  the  proper 
office  of  invention  here  to  furnish  the  proof  for  a  given 
asserted  judgment.  It  differs  from  this  process  of  investi- 
gation only  in  the  circumstance  that  it  directs  all  its  opera- 
tions with  a  view  to  an  effect  on  another  mind.  Investiga- 
tion might  rest  satisfied  with  any  adequate  proof;  invention 
seeks  the  best.  Invention  explores  the  whole  field  of  proof 
and  then  selects;  investigation  is  content  to  take  what  is  at 
hand  provided  it  be  sufficient  to  establish  the  truth  proposed. 
Investigation  implies  a  candid  mind  ready  to  be  convinced 
by  the  proof  discovered;  invention  in  rhetoric  regards  a 
mind  possibly  prejudiced  against  the  truth,  and  struggling 
against  every  fresh  charge  of  proof. 

§  125.  The  mind  addressed  in  confirmation  may  be 
regarded  as  in  any  one  of  three  different  states ;  either 
without  any  belief  in  regard  to  the  proposition  to  be 
confirmed,  or  in  weak  faith,  or  in  positive  disbelief. 
The  processes  in  confirmation,  although  in  the  main 
alike,  will  yet  vary  in  some  slight  respects  in  the 
different  cases. 

The  speaker  will  need  ever  to  have  a  distinct  regard  to 
this  diversity  of  mental  state  in  his  hearers,  and  always  to 
know  whether  he    is  to  produce  an    entirely  new  convic- 
tion, or  to  stengthen  or  remove  one  already  existing.     Differ 
ent  kinds  of  arguments  often,  or   a  dilferent  arrangement 


TllK.Mi:    IN    CONIMKMA'I'ION. 


89 


of  them  even  when  the  same  in  kind,  will  be  requisite  in 
.he  different  cases. 

§  126.  Belief  admits  of  degrees ;  and  may  vary 
from  a  faint  probability  to  absolute  certainty.  The  de- 
gree of  belief  in  regard  to  a  given  proposition  will  be 
affected  both  by  the  character  of  the  evidence  on 
which  it  is  perceived  to  rest ;  and  by  the  state  of  the 
mind  in  which  it  is  entertained,  both  as  it  respects  its 
feelings,  and  its  opinions  on  other  related  subjects. 

The  distribution  of   proofs  in  regard  to  their  respective 
power  in  commanding  belief  will  be  exhibited  in  Chap.  IV. 

§  127.  As  in  explanation,  so  still  more  in  confirma- 
tion it  is  requisite  that  the  speaker  regard  the  taste,  the 
opinions  and  the  feelings  of  his  hearers ;  not  merely 
in  the  exordium  and  the  peroration,  but  also  in  the 
general  conduct  of  the  discourse. 


CHAPTER  II. 

OP    THE    THEME    IN    CONFIRMATION. 

§  128.  As  the  theme  in  this  species  of  discourse  is 
ever  a  judgment,  it  will  ^--.ays  admit  of  being  ex- 
pressed in  a  logical  proposition,  §  123. 

The  ancient  rhetoricians  carefully  distinj^-nished  between 
the  general  subject  or  theme  of  the  discourse,  the  particular 
question  discussed  arising  out  of  the  theme;  and  the  point 
on  which  the  question  turned.  Quintilian,  thus,  in  his 
work  de  Instilutiom  Oratoria,  Book  Third,  distinguishes 
the  thesis  or  causa  from  the   qnaestio  and  both  from  Uie 


90 


CONFIUMATION. 


Status  causae.  Common  language  recognizes  a  like  dis. 
tinction.  We  speak  of  the  subject  of  discussion,  the  ques- 
tion raised,  and  the  poht  at  issue.  The  subject  of  a  given 
discussion,  we  might  thus  say,  was  Uhe  right  of  suf  rage.' 
The  question  raised  was,  'ovgh:  suffrage  to  be  umversair 
The  point  at  issue,  on  which  the  question  was  made  to  turn, 
was,  'ought  property  to  be  made  a  test  in  the  extension  of 
this  privilege? '  These  terms  are  not,  however,  used  with 
great  precision.  Notwithstanding  this  looseness,  it  may  be 
correct  to  say  that  the  subject  indicates  nothing  in  regard  to 
the  object  of  the  discourse,  whether  it  be  to  explain,  con- 
firm,  excite  or  persuade;  the  question,  while  it  indicates 
this,  does  not  determine  on  what  mode  of  proof  the  decis- 
ion shall  rest;  the  point  at  issue  determines  all  these. 

Confirmation,  so  far  as  it  is  concerned  in  the  exhibition 
of  proof,  looks  directly  at  the  point  at  issue.  And  this  may 
always  be  expressed  in  a  logical  proposition  with  its  subject, 
copula  and  predicate.  As  'property  ought,  or  ought  not  <o 
be  made  a  test  in  the  extension  of  the  right  of  suffrage.* 

§  129.  While  the  proposition  to  be  proved  should 
always  be  formally  stated  at  the  outset,  in  the  mind 
of  the  speaker  himself,  it  will  depend  on  several  differ- 
ent principles,  whether  and  how  it  should  be  stated  to 

the  hearer. 

If  no  reason  appear  to  the  contrary,  both  facihty 
of  apprehension  and  the  increase  of  interest  felt  in 
knowing  exactly  what  is  under  discussion  require  that 
the  proposition  be  stated  to  the  hearers  at  the  outset. 

When,  however,  the   proposition   is  complex,  em 
bracing  several  parts,  both  clearness  and  i    crest  may 
be  promoted  by  the  successive  statement  of  the  several 
parts. 


If  theie  be  a  repugnance  to  any  discussion  of  the 
subject  on  the  part  of  the  hearers,  the  statement  of 
the  general  subject  may,  in  some  cases,  be  postj)oncd, 
till  an  interest  is  awakened  by  such  consideratiors  as 
may  bear  on  the  proposition  but  are  general  in  theii* 
nature. 

If  there  be  a  prejudice  against  the  truth  to  be  estab- 
lished, likewise,  it  is  sometimes  better  to  postpone  the 
direct  formal  statement  of  the  proposition,  and  merely 
indicate  at  first  the  subject,  or  propose  the  question  for 
investigation. 


CHAPTER  IK. 


OP    PROOF. 

^  130.  Confirmation  effects  its  object— conviction— 
by  the  exhibition  of  those  conceptions  of  judgments 
on  which  the  proposition  to  be  confirmed  depends ;— - 
in  other  words,  by  the  exhibition  of  proof. 

Proof  consists,  sometimes,  of  mere  conceptions.  All  that 
is  necessary  in  such  a  case  is  to  exhibit  those  conceptions 
distinctly  to  view,  and  the  work  of  conviction  is  completed, 
so  far  as  the  mere  proof  is  concerned.  When  I  am  to  prove 
that  'the  setting  fire  to  an  outhouse  in  a  given  case  is  arson/ 
I  have  only  to  resolve  the  term  "  arson  "  into  li:^  constituent 
conceptions,  and  exhibit  them  in  order.  If  arson  be  defined 
to  be  the  'malicious  setting  fire  to  any  thing  combustible 
whereby  human  life  is  endangered/  then,  if  in  the  case  sup- 
posed, the  setting  fire  be  admitted  to  be  malicious,  and  a 


J'  -•'■! 


92 


CONFIRMATION. 


H'^i 


I  ill' 


dwelling  was  cousuined  in  consequence^  the  proof  is  made 
out  on  exhibiting  the  essential  constituents  of  arson.  So  in 
provino-  faith  to  be  a  virtue,  I  have  only  to  analyse  faith  and 
exhibit  its  component  parts-as  a  moral  exercise  pui  forth  in 
accordance  with  an  intellectual  assent  to  truth.  The  term.«< 
of  the  proposition  'faith'  and  'virtue'  being  understood, 
the  mind  instantly  passes  into  a  belief  of  the  proposition. 
This  process,  according  to  the  universally  admitted  use  of 
language,  is  rightly  denominated  "proof;"  although  this  term 
may  have  been  by  some  writers  and  in  some  cases  restricted 
in  its  application  to  that  species  of  reasoning  in  which  tlie 
conclusion  depends  on  judgments.  The  importance  of  this 
distinction  in  regard  tc  the  means  of  proof  will  be  seen  in 
the  classification  of  arguments. 

It  follows  from  the  view  of  confirmation  presented  in  this 
section  that  invention  in  this  part  of  discourse  will  consis'" 
mainly  in  finding  proof. 

It  should  be  remarked  that  while  the  distinctive  work  of 
confirmation  consists  in  exhibiting  proof,  the  mere  exhibition 
of  proof  is  not  to  be  regarded  as  all  that  enters  into  this 
process,  as  will  be  seen  more  specifically  in  a  following 
section. 

In  confirmatory  discourse,  accordingly,  proof  constitutes 
the  body  of  discussion,  §  63. 

§  131.  Proof  is  either  direct  or  indirect.  It  is 
direct,  when  it  is  applied  immediately  to  the  establish- 
ment of  the  proposition. 

It  is  indirect,  when  it  is  applied  to  the  overthrow  of 
objections.  In  the  latter  case  it  is  called  refuta- 
tion. 

§  132.  A  complex  proposition,  embracing  several 
constituent  propositions,  may  be  proved  by  the  sei,)a- 


THE    TOPICS. 


93 


rate  and  successive  proof  of  each  constituent  part. 

Although  sometimes  a  complex  proposition  may  best  be 
proved  without  such  analysis  and  separate  proof  of  the 
paits,  as,  for  instance,  when  the  proofs  are  applicable  alike 
to  every  part,  still  generally  it  will  prevent  confusion  and 
conduce  to  clearness  and  force  in  the  reasoning  to  analyse 
the  proposition  and  establish  each  part  separately.  In  order 
to  secure  this  advantage  the  proposition  should  be  carefully 
studied  at  the  outset,  to  see  whether  it  be  complex  or  not, 
and  if  complex,  whether  the  proof  can  be  best  applied  to 
the  whole  or  to  each  part  separately. 

§  133.  The  work  of  proving  a  particular  simple 
proposition  or  a  complex  proposition  regarded  as  sim- 
ple so  far  as  invention  is  concerned,  consists  in  the  se- 
lection and  arrangement  of  the  proofs  on  which  assent 
to  the  proposition  depends.  This  part  of  rhetorical 
invention  was  denominated  by  the  ancients  "The 
Topical  Art,"  or  "The  Topics." 

This  department  of  the  art  of  rhetoric  was  regarded  by 
the  ancient  rhetoricians  and  orators  as  one  of  the  most 
important  in  the  whole  province  of  rhetoric.  Aristotle  and 
Cicero  wrote  separate  treatises  upon  it.  It  entered  largely 
into  every  regular  treatise  on  the  art,  and  into  every  sys- 
tem of  instruction.  That  it  has  fallen  so  much  into  disuse 
is  to  be  explained  from  the  causes  which  have  led  to  the 
neglect  of  the  department  of  invention  generally.  It  forms 
a  necessary,  constituent  part  of  this  branch  of  rhetoric.  A 
distihtjt  view  of  the  Topics  will  accordingly  be  presented  in 
the  fallowing  chapter. 


94 


CON  1' I HM  AT  ION. 


h    V 


CHAPTER  IV. 


■;■'!; 


n 


B'' 


OF    THE    TOPICS. 

§  134.  It  is  the  object  of  the  Topical  art  to  facilitata 
and  guide  rhetorical  invention  in  confirmation  by  a 
distribution  of  the  different  kinds  of  proof  into  gen- 
eral classes. 

The  name  originally  signifies  "places/'  toVoj;  the  Latin 
of  wliich  was  *' loci."  The  whole  field  of  proofs  was 
divided  off  into  several  parts,  to  which  the  invention  was 
directed  as  the  *'  seats  "  or  places  of  arguments.  They  were 
hence  called  sometimes  "sedes  argnmentorum.'*  The 
topics  proper  constituted  a  species  of  the  "  loci  commiintSy* 
whicli  included  not  only  arguments  but  truths  used  for  illus- 
tration^ embellishment^  or  other  purposes  in  discourse,  and 
are  generally  by  the  ancient  writers  thus  distinguished  from 
the  topics  proper. 

The  specific  practical  utility  of  a  system  of  topics  consists 
chiefly  in  the  following  particulars,  viz: 

1.  It  I'acilitates  the  search  for  proof  generally;  inasmuch 
as  it  exhibits  in  systematic  arrHiigement  the  itwf  general 
classes  into  which  all  possible  prool's  may  be  reduced.  The 
search  is  thus  rendered  direct,  definite,  and  intelligent. 

2.  By  the  distribution  of  proofs  into  classes  according  to 
the  intrinsic  nature  of  the  proofs,  the  topics  show  at  once 
the  comparative  weight  and  value  of  the  different  arguments 
that  bear  upon  the  same  question.  The  selection  is  thus 
made  easy;  certain  kinds  of  sophistry,  and  those  of  the 
most  dangerous  kind,  are  at  once  detected;  and  the  numlier 
of  arguments  necessary  ic.  a  given  case  is  evinced.  As  will 
appear  more  clearly  hereafter,  some  propositions  can  be 
proved  only  by  a  certain  class  of   urguments.     The  argu- 


TIIK    loricb. 


95 


meats  of  one  class,  moreover,  are  intrinsically  more  weighty 
tnua  those  of  anulher.  Some  compel  belief  irresistibly, 
others  only  es^.ablish  a  degree  of  probululity  greater  or  loss. 
It  is  one  of  the  most  common  and  at  the  same  time  most 
successful  arts  of  sopljistry  to  put  off  the  less  for  the  more 
weighty ;  the  merely  probable  for  the  absolutely  demonstra- 
tive proof. 

3.  The  topics  furnish  at  once  the  main  principles  of  ar- 
rangement. 

4.  By  directing  the  attention  of  the  learner  to  definite 
parts  of  the  whole  field  of  arguments  successively,  they  fur- 
nish the  means  of  a  more  thorough  and  familiar  acquain- 
tance with  their  respective  nature  and  use. 

§  135.  The  first  general  division  of  proofs  is  into 
tliose  which  are  given  in  the  very  terms  of  tlie  propo- 
sition to  be  proved;  and  those  which  are  to  be  sought 

out  of  it. 

The  former  class  may  be  denominated  analytic  ; 
the  latter  synthetic  proofs. 

All  propositions,  susceptible  of  proof,  contain  the  proof 
within  themselves,  or  depend  on  some  truth  or  conception 
out  of  themselves.  The  former  class  are  denominated  by 
logicians,  analytic;  the  latter,  synthetic  propositions.  The 
proposition  "all  trees  are  organic'*  is  analytic;  since  from 
the  very  analysis  of  the  terms  "trees"  and  "  organic,"  the 
conceptions  are  given  on  which  the  truth  of  the  proposition 
rests.  So  likewise,  the  proposition  "dueling  is  murder  "  is 
analytic;  as  an  analysis  of  the  terms  furnishes  the  proof. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  proposition  "dueling  is  a  relic  of 
barbarism"  is  svnthetic;  since  here  no  analysis  of  terms 
would  furnish  the  proof  of  the  truth  affirmed.  Something 
is  added  to  the  subject  in  the  predicate  and  the  ground  for 


9!) 


fOXFIUMATION. 


m 


;!  .i 


this  aflirined  additinn  in  list  be  sought  out  ol"  the  pruposi* 
tiuQ. 

Analytic  proofs  correspond  very  nearly,  but  not  exactly, 
to  those  denoniinaled  by  Aristotle  and  Cicero  "intrinsic/' 
They  iuchide,  thus,  the  species  of  arguments  enumerated  by 
th,  n  Mrom  delimtion/  Mrom  the  relation  of  species  and 
genus;'  'from  partition  or  enumeration  of  parts/  Tiiey  do 
not  embrace,  however,  all  those  which  are  derived  from 
'  things  bearing  some  affinity  to  the  matter  of  the  proposi- 
tion/ Indeed,  they  take  in  but  a  part  of  one  variety  of  this 
species,  viz:  that  from  conjugates  or  words  derived  from 
the  same  root.*^ 

§  130.  Analytic  proofs,  be.ng  derived  from  the  very 
terms  of  the  proposition,  need  not,  for  any  practical 
purpose  of  invention  be  farther  subdivided  ;  the  search 
being  at  once  definitely  directed  and  the  weight  and 
relation  of  all  arguments  of  this  class  being  indicated 
in  the  very  nature  of  analytic  proofs  as  such. 

The  terms  of  the  proposition  may  be  analysed  by  j  aiii- 
tion  or  by  division,  §  97,  and  the  character  of  th',  proof 
will  vary  in  a  certain  respect  with  the  nature  of  the  propo- 
sition. But  it  is  obviously  of  no  injportance  how  the 
analysis  k  made  or  what  is  the  form  of  the  proof  thus  ob- 
tained so  iur  -s  it  respects  any  purpose  of  invention. 

§  13?'.  ;';jr,  y"  proofs  carry  with  them  the  highest 
validity  aini  force  in  all  confirmation. 

There  can  cieariy  be  no  higher  or  stronger  proof  than 
that  which  is  contained  in  the  very  statement  of  the  propo- 
sition. In  this  case,  the  proposition  is  only  to  be  placed 
before  the  mind  and  assent  is  necessary.     There  may  be 

*  See  Cic.  Top.  2— 4-  " 


Tin:    roi»ics. 


97 


need  of  proof  ol"  other  kinds  to  show  that  the  terms  of  the 
proposition  actually  contain  tiie  conceptions  or  truths  oa 
which  the  truth  of  the  proposition  depends.  But  these  con- 
ceptions being  admitted  to  be  there,  the  exhibition  of  thera 
conipt'ls  assent.  In  proving  that  the  malicious  setting  fire 
to  an  outhouse  whereby  a  dwelling  is  accidentally  consumed 
is  arson,  it  may  be  necessary  to  prove,  by  testimony  or 
otherwise,  that  arson  necessarily  includes  the  idea  of  malice, 
the  overt  act  of  setting  lire,  the  endangering  of  human  life. 
But  if  these  are  admitted  to  be  constituent  ideas  of  the  com- 
pb^  notion — arson — the  proof  is  conclusive. 

§  i38.  The  principle  of  this  most  j^eneiic  division 
of  proofs  into  analytic  and  synthetic  indicates  the  first 
step  to  be  taken  in  the  invention  of  arguments.  It  is, 
study  carefully  the  terms  of  the  proposition  itself. 

This  is  a  fundamental  and  all-important  rule  in  all  con- 
firmation. Many  questions,  not  to  say  most  that  are  con- 
troverted, are  resolved  at  once  by  the  explication  of  the 
meaning  of  the  terms  employed  to  express  them.  They  are 
controverted  only  because  the  parties  see  them  in  different 
aspects.  But  even  where  the  question  is  viewed  in  the  same 
light,  the  explication  of  the  meaning  of  the  terms  is  often 
the  effectual  method  of  deciding  the  controversy.  And 
where  not,  where  synthetic  proofs  are  requisite,  the  mind  is, 
by  the  thorough  examination  of  the  question  in  all  possible 
lights,  furnished  with  the  best  helps  and  guides  to  invention. 

§  139.  Synthetic  proofs,  being  derived  from  without 
the  proposition,  are  either  such  fjs  are  given  by  the 
mind  itself  acting  under  the  necessary  laws  of  its 
being,  or  such  as  arc  derived  from  without  the  mind. 

The  former  species  may  he  denominated  intui- 
tive ;  the  latter  empirical  proofs. 

9 


I 


r.  ■:■,      ! 


m-. 


I  ■:!! 


.!  I 


n 


ii*L 


I  m-i 


Qf3 


COMIUMATION. 


In  dmonstrating  the  proof  of  a  matliemalical  proposition 
we  can  trace  out  the  steps  from  the  premise  to  the  conclusion 
without  aid  from  exterual  proof.  The  dingranis  and  nu- 
merical tigures  or  alphabetical  symbols  which  we  often  or 
geaenilly  make  use  of  in  mathematical  reasoning,  merely 
facilitate  our  mental  operations.  A  Newton  or  a  Pascal 
could  reason  out  the  theorem  independently  of  such  aids. 
In  other  words,  the  mind  in  this  case  intuitively  perceives 
thu  connection  between  the  subject  and  the  predicate.  And 
it  matters  not  whether  the  reasoning  be  more  or  less  simple 
or  brief.  No  mere  analysis  of  the  terms  of  the  proposition, 
however,  can  give  the  proof.  The  mind  intuitively,  neces- 
sarily, adds  the  predicate  to  the  subject.  The  quotient  of 
a  h  divided  by  a  is  seen  unavoidably  by  every  one  so  soon 
as  he  understands  what  is  meant  by  the  statement.  Yet  nc 
mere  analysis  could  give  the  proof.  While  they  are  there- 
fore in  their  very  nature  distinguishable  froni  analytic  proofs 
being  perceived  at  once  by  the  mind,  they  may  be  denomi- 
nated intuitive. 

Empirical  proofs  being  derived  from  without  the  mind 
come  to  it  only  through  experience,  and  hence  obtain  their 

name. 

Intuitive,  like  analytic  proofs,  need  no  subdivision.  They 
are  chiefly  employed  in  mathematical  reasoning. 

§  140.  Analytic  and  intuitive  proofs  possess  apodictic 
or  demonstrative  certainty. 

Unless  there  be  inaccuracy  in  the  application  of  them, 
they  must  always  compel  assent.  Hence,  it  would  bs  en- 
tirely unnecessary  for  conviction  to  advance  any  other  argu- 
ments, were  it  not  that,  in  the  first  place,  there  may  be 
Buepicion  of  inaccuracy  in  the  application  of  the  proof;  and, 
secondly,  that  the  human  mind  has  passions  as  well  as  in 


en- 


THK     TOPICS. 


9i 


tellectual  powers  and  in  respect  to  both  is  subjected  to  the 
laws  of  habit,  and  hence 

"  convinced  against  its  will 
Is  of  the  same  opinion  still." 

Hence  the  necessity  of  superadding  other  proofs;  mainly  that 
the  native  love  of  truth  may  have  opportunity  of  risio"-  by 
the  contemplation  of  proof  and  triumphing  over  prejudice 
and  aversion. 

§  141.  Empirical  proofs  are  divided  into  the  follow- 
ing varieties : 

First,  Experience  ; 

Second,  Antecedent  Probability  ; 

Third,  Signs  ; 

Fourth,  Examples. 

§  142.  Of  Empirical  proofs,  those  from  experience 
are  the  most  weighty  and  decisive ;  but  the  use  of 
them  in  reasoning  is  very  limited. 

The  principal  uses  of  this  variety  of  proofs  are  1. 
as  materials  for  other  varieties  of  proofs ; 

2.  In  rare  cases  to  prove  the  particular  facts  to  which 
they  relate. 

It  will  sometimes  be  the  case  that  a  speaker  will  need  to 
prove  a  fact  which  has  come  within  the  personal  experience 
of  liis  hearers.  In  regard  to  intellectual  and  moral  exercises 
as  distinguished  from  mere  sensations  this  appc  >•  to  such 
personal  experience  will  ordinarily  consist  in  a  reference  to 
the  occasion  on  which  the  exercise  was  experienced;  as  ihe 
occasion  may  be  remembered  while  the  exercise  itself  may 
have  escaped  the  notice  of  consciousness.  Demosthenes 
thus  p.-avL's  to  the  Atheaians  that  tlie  policy  which  had  in 
fact  occasioned  their  disasters  in  the  contest  with.  Philip  was 


100 


COXFIKMATION. 


riiH',, 


l"ti„ 


Still  a  noble,  just,  v/orlliy  policy,  by  referring  to  ibe  occa- 
sioris  on  wiiich  the  tfelinss  of  the  citizens  actuu.iy  burst  out 
in  generous  iadigaatiou  at  the  supposed  treachery  and  arliul 

ambition  of  Philip. 

This  variety  of  proofs  is  more  commonly  used  as  mate- 
rials for  other  varieties  of  proof.  They  are  thus  used  in 
two  different  ways;  first,  as  distinct  and  independent  proofs; 
secondly,  as  component  parts  of  a  complex  body  of  proof. 
Tims  tlie  necessity  of  religion  to  the  civil  welfare  and  se- 
curity of  a  ration  might  be  forcibly  proved  to  those  in 
France  who  had  lived  through  the  terrific  scenes  of  the 
Revolution  by  appeals  to  their  own  personal  experience. 
One  instance  of  such  experience,  perhaps,  might  not  suffice 
for  the  proof.  The  repetition  of  those  instances  day  after 
day  for  years  would  atTord  proof  almost  irresistible.  An- 
other illustration  may  be  taken  from  Dr.  SoutVs  argument 
to  prove  that  other  forms  of  government  insensibly  partake 
of  monarchy  and  slide  into  it.  He  says,  "  For  look  upon 
any  aristocracy  or  democracy,  and  still  you  shall  find  some 
one  ruling  active  person  among  the  rest  who  does  every 
thing  and  carries  all  before  him.  Was  not  De  Witt 
amongst  our  neighbors  a  kind  of  king  in  a  commonwealth? 
And  was  not  that  usurper  here  amongst  ourselves  a  monarch 
in  realitv  of  fact,  before  he  wore  the  title  or  assumed  the 
oflice  ? »  * 

§  143.  Proofs  from  antecedent  probability 
are  founded  on  the  relations  of  a  cause  to  its  effect  or 
of  a  general  law  to  its  particular  results. 

From  the  rise  of  the  sap  in  the  tree,  thus,  we  infer,  that 
there  will  be  foliage,  bloom,  fruit  and  other  particulars  of 
vegetable  growth.      The  circulation  of  the  sap  is,  in  thia 


*  Di^oo'i'-sf  nil  Ps.  14i,  10. 


THE    TOPICS. 


101 


case,  the  cause  which,  unless  something  interfere  to  hinder 
its  operation,  will  produce  those  eiTects.  So  observed  dili- 
gence and  integrity  excite  the  confident  expectation  of  thrift 
and  success.     These  are  known  causes  of  such  a  result. 

Again,  we  believe  from  our  knowledge  of  the  laws  of 
gravitation,  that  a  heavy  body  unsuj)ported  will  lall  to  the 
earth.  Here  we  have  no  diatinct  perception  of  the  particu- 
lar cause  of  gravitation j  we  refer  the  phenomenon  only  to 
a  law ;  and  from .  our  knowledge  of  the  existence  of  the 
law,  we  affirm  with  unhesitating  confidence  that  when  the 
fit  occasion  is  presented  the  proper  operation  of  the  law  will 
be  witnessed. 

Whether  the  cause  in  operation  or  the  law  regulating  it 
is  more  prominent  in  view,  in  this  kind  of  proof,  the  nature 
of  the  proof  is  the  same.  There  is,  in  both  cases,  ever  im- 
plied a  cause  operating  and  a  law^  governing  its  operations. 
Reference  is  generally  made  to  the  cause  when  it  is  known; 
to  the  law  when  the  cause  is  unknown. 

The  validity  of  this  proof  rests  on  our  conviction  of  the 
uniformity  of  the  course  of  nature. 

This  variety  of  proof  is  frequently  employed  with  great 
effect  in  questions  of  fact.  It  is  the  main  reliance  of  Mr. 
Curran  in  his  argument  in  defense  of  Finney.  He  employs 
with  much  force  the  perjured  and  corrupt  character  of  the 
informer  in  the  case  as  antecedent  probability  proof  that  the 
charge  was  groundless. 

§  144.  The  proof  is  of  the  nature  of  an  antecedent 
probabilily  proof  when  the  absence  of  a  sufficient 
operative  cause  is  urged  against  the  belief  of  a  sup- 
posed event. 

While  from  the  laws  of  the  mind  we  necessarily  antici- 
pate the  appropriate  etTect  from  the  observed   operation   of 

9* 


mn 

[Mill  Jii 


102 


CONFIRMATION. 


a  cause,  so  likewise,  on  the  otlier  hand,  we  rojeci  the 
supposition  of  an  event  iiaving  occurred,  il'  there  be  no 
proper  cause  to  produce  it.  The  absence  of  all  motive  to 
conunit  an  imputed  crime  is  thus  esteemed  a  strong  proof 
against  the  fact  oi'  its  having  been  committed. 

Tiiere  is,  properly  speaking,  no  cause  exisling  of  a  sup- 
posed event,  when  there  is  no  opportunity  alTorded  for  its 
operation.  In  such  a  case,  the  cause  is  virtually  wanting. 
If  thus,  there  be  a  known  ground  for  ihe  pri)bability  of  the 
commission  of  the  crime  in  the  character  of  the  accused,  yet 
if  there  be  no  possible  opportunity  for  committing  it,  there 
is  no  operating  cause;  and  the  proof  is  as  valid  in  this  form 
as  in  the  other  where  the  non-existence  of  the  cause  itself  is 
presented. 

Criminal  trials  abound  with  instances  of  this  species  of 
prooi'  in  both  of  its  forms.  A  single  exempliHcation  will 
suffice  to  illustrate  its  nature  and  application.  In  the 
"  Goodridge  •  ase  "  so  called,  Mr.  Webster  urges  the  want 
of  all  possibility  of  previous  arrangement  and  concert, 
which  the  circumstances  of  the  alleged  crime  presupposed, 
in  proof  of  the  innocence  of  the  accused;  while,  on  the  other 
bond,  he  feels  himself  called  to  rebut  the  proof  arising  from 
the  want  of  motive  on  the  part  of  tjie  prosecuting  witness 
to  feign  a  robbery.* 

§  145.  The  force  of  any  given  antecedent  proba- 
bility proof  will  depend  on  the  degree  of  certainty  La 
the  connection  between  tke  cause  and  the  efrect. 

If  the  cause  be  adequate  to  the  efiect  and  actually 

*  Webster's  Speoclies,  Vol.  II.  In  this  case  two  men  were  tried 
on  .1  charge  of  robbery  committed  on  the  person  of  Goodridge  who 
was  the  prosecuting  witness.  The  main  reliance  of  the  defense 
vvai  that  the  robbery  was  a  pretense. 


THE    TOPICS. 


103 


operate,  or  no  hindrance  intervene,  the  proof  is  con- 
chisivo.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  there  be  uncertainty 
whether  the  cause  actually  operate,  or  whether  it 
operate  free  from  hindrance  or  interruption,  the  force 
of  the  proof  will  be  so  far  impaired. 

Where  the  proof  lies  in  the  absence  of  all  cause  for 
the  supposed  effect,  the  conclusion  will  be  more  or  less 
certain  according  to  the  degree  in  which  all  causes  or 
occasions  possible  in  the  case  are  excluded. 

An  important  distinction  is  to  be  made  between  those  an- 
tecedent probability  proofs  which  are  purely  physical  and 
such  as  are  moral.  A  physical  cause  must  operate  when 
the  occasion  is  presented.  We  infer  with  absolute  certainty 
that  water  exposed  will  freeze  when  the  temperature  is  be- 
low the  freezing  point.  We  cannot  so  certainly  infer  that  a 
covetous  man  will  steal  or  defraud  when  an  opportunity  is 
afforded;  or  that  a  threat  of  vindictive  passion  was  actually 
followed  by  murder  when  occasion  of  executing  it  was  pre- 
sented. 

§  146.  Signs  are  proofs  which  derive  their  force 
from  the  necessary  def  'ndence  of  one  thing  upon  an- 
other. This  dependence  n»ay  be  that  of  an  event  on 
its  cause,  or  on  the  occasion  or  condition  which  is  nec- 
essary in  order  to  the  operation  of  the  cause  to  pro- 
duce the  supposed  effect. 

The  sign  is  thus  the  dependent  event  or  effect ;  the 
thing  to  be  proved  is  the  cause  or  occasion  on  which 
it  depends. 

The  validity  of  this  species  of  proof  rests  ultimately  on 
the  principle,  received  unhesitatingly  by  every  mind,  that 
every  elTect  presupposes  a  cause  and   an  occasion   of   its 


ill'i 


04 


CONFMIMA  IXON. 


m  ... 


operating.  In  the  former  species — antecede-nt  probability 
proofs,  the  argument  is  from  the  cause  to  the  effect;  in  this, 
it  is  from  the  efiect  to  the  cause. 

We  infer  from  the  freezing  of  water  that  the  temperature 

has  fallen  below  the  freezing  point.     This  is  a  certain  sign. 

The  discovery  of  a  bloody  dagger  in  the  possession  of  a  man 

after  a  murder  known  to  have  been  committed  by  such  an  in- 

atrument,  is  a  strong  sign  or  proof  against  him.  Here  we  infer 

a  cause  from  an  effect.     We  find  it  difficult  or  impossible 

to  admit  the  eflect  and  at  the  same  time  to  reject  the  cause. 

In  the  same  way  we  infer  that  if  a  dwelling,  which  had 

been  carefully  secured,   has  been  entered  without  violence 

and  robbed,  there  must  have   been  concert  with  some  one 

from  within.     The  cause  could  not  have  operated  without 

such  an  occasion. 

Signs  include  a  number  of  varieties  which  it  is  unneces- 
sary to  consider  in  order  separately.  There  are  several  of 
these  varieties,  however,  for  reasons  in  part  common,  in 
part  peculiar  to  each  variety,  which  seem  to  warrant  a 
distinct  notice. 

§  147.  Testimony  is  a  variety  of  signs ;  the  va- 
lidity of  which  as  proof  consists  in  this — that  the 
testimony  presupposes  the  fact  testified  to  as  the  con- 
dition without  which  it  would  not  have  been  given. 

The  credibility  of  a  witness  does  not  always  depend  on 
kis  character  for  veracity.  The  testimony  of  u  notorious 
liar  and  perjurer  is  sometimes  conclusive;  and  on  this  prin- 
ciple, that  we  cannot  believe  he  should  so  testify,  unless  the 
events  testified  to  were  facts. 

The  degree  of  weight  to  be  attributed  to  testimony  is 
always  to  be  estimated  by  this  view  of  the  nature  of  testi- 
mony— that  it  is  a  sign,  implying  the  facts  to  which  it  tes* 


THE   TOPICS. 


105 


I 

1 


tifics  as  more  or  less  necessary  conditions  of  its  having  been 
given.  Whenever,  therefore,  occasions  or  motives  exist  in 
the  case  for  giving  the  testimony  other  than  the  truth,  the 
credibility  of  the  u  itness  will  be  so  far  impaired.  We  are 
thus  to  judge  the  credibility  of  historians.  The  historian  of  a 
sect  or  of  a  party  must  be  received  as  a  credible  witness 
only  so  far  as  it  may  appear  that  truth  was  the  condition  of 
his  speaking  as  he  does.  All  admissions  against  his  own 
sect  or  i)arty,  unless  made  as  baits  and  lures,  will  be  re- 
ceived as  honest  testimony. 

It  is  from  this  view  of  the  nature  of  testimony  as  proof, 
that  we  see  why  opportunity  and  capahilitij  of  observing 
come  in  to  alVect  the  credibility  of  a  witness.  If  these 
qualilications  are  wanting,  the  connection  between  the  testi- 
mony as  a  sign,  and  the  facts  testitied  to  as  conditions, 
which  constitutes  the  very  nature  of  this  proof,  is  destroyed 
and  there  is  nothing  on  which  the  testimony  can  rest. 

§  148.  Authority  is  a  variety  of  signs;  and  is 
distinguished  from  testimony  by  the  circmnstance  that 
authority  respects  matters  of  opinion,  while  testimony 
res])ects  matters  of  fact. 

The  opinions  of  competent  men  weigh  as  proof  inasmuch 
as  we  cannot  conceive  how  such  men  should  entertain 
those  oi)ini()ns  unless  they  were  founded  on  truth.  If, 
however,  we  can  discover  the  influence  of  other  causes  to 
determine  their  opinions,  their  authority  weighs  less  with 
us.  The  opinions  of  legal  tribunals,  pronounced  after  the 
fullest  discussions  on  both  sides  by  interested  and  able  men, 
under  the  solemnities  of  a  judicial  trial,are  weighty  author- 
ity; because  it  is  not  conceivable  that  such  opinions  can  rest 
on  any  other  foundation  than  truth. 

The  validity  of  legal  precedents  may  properly  be  subjected 


['I      t 


l!  I 


'I  ' 


5   ! 


i   i 


)0' 


CONFIK.MATION. 


idepenc]( 


if,  iudoe  will  sci 


Ins  test.     An  indepencleat  and  infelligenf,  judge 
aside  a  precedent  en  proof  that  the  decision  was  detennined 
by  other  motives  than  love  of  truth  or  rociitiide. 

§  149.  CoNCUtiiiRNT  TivsriMONV  and  concur- 
rent    AUTHOR [TY     boloilg     rIsO    tO    tll'lS    Spccics     of 

proofs.  The  mere  conciirreiico  of  witnesses  or  jiuliies, 
apart  from  all  consideration  of  their  personal  claims 
to  credibility,  is  a  sign,  often  conclusive,  that  tlie  fact 
or  opinion  is  truly  as  represented. 

Previous  concert,  or  common  interest  at  once  impairs  the 
force  of  this  proof.  For  then  anotiier  cause  or  occasion  is 
furnished  to  account  for  the  fact  of  the  testimony  than  the 
actual  truth. 

§  150.  Examples  are  proofs  which  rest  on  the  re- 
semblance or  common  property  or  relation  that  exists 
between  individuals  of  the  same  class.  One  is  taken, 
and  from  something  found  to  be  true  of  that,  an  in- 
ference is  drawn  to  one  or  all  of  the  others. 

The  naturalist,  thus,  having  discovered  by  analysis  the 
inorganic  constituents  of  a  particular  plant,  infers  from  this 
example  that  any  other  of  the  same  species  will  contain  the 
same  constituents.  Mr.  Burke,  in  his  Speech  on  the  East 
India  Bill,  sustains  his  charge  of  hypocrisy  against  the  East 
India  Company  by  adducing  as  examples  their  treatment  of 
Mr.  Hastings,  on  the  one  hand,  whom  they  reprehended 
with  unparalleled  asperity,  and  yet  continued  to  trust  with 
the  entire  control  of  their  affairs  in  India;  and  of  Col. 
Munson,  Gen.  Clavering,  and  Mr.  Francis,  on  the  other, 
whom  they  ''  ruined  by  their  praises." 

The  fierce  of  the  example,  as  a  proof,  rests  ultimately 
jpon  the  principle  that  like  causes  produce  like  effects;  for. 


I 


i 


i 


5 


I 


i 


THE    TOPICS.  1Q7 

as  has  before  been  obaervtd,  $  98,  the  notior  of  a  cause  lies 
at  the  fouudfitior.  of  jill  classilication.  The  force  of  this 
proof  is,  coiise(iiieiilly,  im^xiired  precisely  in  the  degree  that 
more  than  oii€  cause  may  possibly  have  operated  in  the  case. 
In  nature,  the  proof  is  generally  conclusive;  for  we  can 
conceive  of  but  one  general  cause.  In  conduct,  hou  ever, 
we  cannot  si'  dy  take  the  actions  of  one  man  as  exen)piili- 
calions  of  U-j  actions  of  another;  for  we  cannot  determine 
that  the  same  motives  have  influenced  in  tJie  two  cases. 

It  is  important  carefully  to  distinguish  the  diilerent  pur- 
poses ior  which  an  example  may  be  introduced  into  dis- 
course. It  is  used  not  only  as  proof  in  argumentation,  but, 
also,  as  mere  illustration,  and  likewise  for  ornament.  It 
may  subserve,  moreover,  any  two  of  all  these  purposes  at 
the  sfime  time.  An  argument  consequently  may  be  dis- 
guised under  what  dpj>ears  to  be  a  mere  illustration  or  em- 
bellishnicnt,  and  may  thuh  have  force  as  proof  which  it 
could  not  have  received  if  exhibited  in  its  own  dress  and 
form,  as  tiien  its  weakness  or  unsoundness  would  have  been 
detectetl  So,  likewise,  a  solid  argument  may  be  taken  for 
a  mere  ornament  or  illustration, 

$  15 L  We  argue  from  example  either  to  the  whole 
class  or  to  other  individuals  of  tiie  class.  The  former 
species  aie,  for  the  salie  of  distinction,  denominated 
Arguments  from  Induction. 

From  observing  that  heavy  bodies  fall  to  the  earth,  we 
infer,  by  induction,  the  general  principle  of  gravitation. 
Whether  one  or  more  examples,  or,  generally,  how  many 
exanjples  are  neces.sary  in  order  to  warrant  the  inference, 
depends  on  the  question,  how  many  are  necessary  in  order 
to  show  that  but  one  cause  has  produced  the  result.  The 
philologist  might  safely  infer  from    observing   in  a    given 


108 


CO\rjl{M.\TIt>N. 


1  *  -ill 


language  a  single  iuslaiice  of  a  second  future  tense,  that 
this  tense-form  was  a  general  feature  of  the  language,  since 
the  single  cause  thaf  could  have  originated  the  use  of  it  lies 
in  the  primitive  nature  of  the  language.  He  could  not, 
however,  infer  from  observing  that  in  a  particular  case  this 
species  of  time  was  expressed  by  auxiliaries,  that  the  lan- 
guage contained  no  proper  tense-form  for  this  lime;  for  ac- 
cidental causes  may  have  produced  exceptions  to  a  general 
law. 

So  one  observed  instance  of  a  particular  raetai  sinking  ia 
water,  might  authorize  the  conclusion  that  the  specific  gravity 
of  the  metal  generally,  was  greater  than  that  of  water;  that 
all  pieces  of  the  same  metal  would  sink  in  the  same  fluid. 
For  but  one  cause  can  here  be  supposed  to  act  in  determin- 
ing the  metal  to  sink.  But  one  could  not  prouerly  infer 
that  all  ores  of  the  metal  would  be  of  a  greyish  color,  from 
observing  a  single  specimen  of  that  color.  Since,  in  this 
case,  a  diversity  of  causes  may  exist  in  different  localities 
to  determine  the  color  of  an  ore. 

§  152.  Examples  are  founded  either  on  resemblance 
of  properties  or  on  resemblance  of  relations.  Those 
of  the  latter  kind  are  denominated  arguments  from 

ANALOGY. 

While  an  argument  from  analogy  differs  thus  from  other 
examples  in  the  circumstance  that  the  former  is  founded  on 
a  resemblance  of  relations,  while  the  others  rest  on  a 
resemblance  of  properties,  yet  the  same  principle  gives 
alike,  to  both  varieties,  all  their  force  as  pi  oofs,  viz:  our 
conviction  of  the  uniformity  of  nature. 

§  153.  Analog-ical  reasoning  is  simple  when  tho 

two  thin^  compared  bear  a  similar  relati(»n  to  a  thii-d. 

As  when  from  the  relation  of  the  earth  to  its  uses,  it  is 


TIIK    TOI'ICS. 


109 


irjfoned  that  other  planets,  from  the  ianie  relation,  may  be 
iahabited.  Or,  when  it  is  inferred,  from  the  fact  that  virtue 
alTects  our  well-being,  tiiat  vice  must  likewise;  virtue  and 
vice  being  both  moral  iiabits  or  dispositions,  and  the  rela- 
tion being  tlie  same— both  alike  aiVecting  condition. 

^  15 1.  Analogical  reasoning  is  coaiplkx  when  two 
dilVerent  relations  are  introduced. 

Thus  it  may  be  argued  from  the  fact  that  virtue  tends  to 
happiness,  that  vice  must  tend  to  misery.  In  this  case,  the 
whole  analogical  proof  rests  on  the  s-iniilarity  of  relation 
between  both  virtue  and  vice,  and  welfare.  This  is  the 
generic  relation.  Another  specific  relation  is  introduced  as 
belonging  to  each  of  the  terms — that  of  virtue  to  liai)piness, 
and  of  vice  to  misery.  These  are  dissimilar  relations.  It 
is  by  another  principle  of  proof  that  the  tendency  to  aflect 
welfare  common  to  virtue  and  vice  is  believed  to  be  in  the 
one  case  salutary,  in  the  other  pernicions.  This  is  an  in- 
stance of  Aristotle's  argument  from  contiaries — s|  evamuv 

In  a  complex  analogical  argument,  however,  it  is  not 
nece  -jary  that  the  second  relations  should  be  to  opposite^. 
As  from  the  relation  of  a  seed  to  the  plant  we  may  argue 
in  respect  to  the  relation  of  an  egg  to  the  fowl.  The  rela- 
tions of  a  germ  to  the  parent  and  to  the  living  product  are 
common  to  tlie  seed  and  to  the  egg.  These  are  the  generic 
relatiojis.  The  specific  relations  of  the  egg  to  the  fowl  and 
of  the  seed  to  the  plant  are  dissimilar,  but  are  not  proper 
opposites.  Tlie  force  ol  the  analogy  readies  only  to  the 
similarity  or  resemblance  of  the  relations. 

§  155.  Examples  may  be  real  or  invented. 

Real  examples,  or  such  as  are  taken  from  actual 

observation  or  exiierience,  carry  with  them  their  owa 

evidence. 

10 


110 


CONFIRMATION. 


,..*'! 


^  liSj'  .  ' 


n 


Invented  examples  must  possess  intrinsic  probability 
or  be  credil'le  in  tlieniselves  ;  otherwise  they  evidently 
can  have  no  weight  as  arguments. 

Aristotle  instances  as  an  invented  example  that  employed 
by  Socrates,  of  tlie  mariners  choosing  their  steersman  by 
lot.  The  case,  probably,  never  in  fact  occurred;  but  it 
'clearly  might  occur,  and  it  well  illustrates  the  possibility  of 
the  lot  I'alliiJg  upon  an  unskillful  person;  and,  therefore,  waa 
A  valid  argument  as  used  by  Socrates  against  the  practice, 
then  common,  of  appointing  magistrates  by  lut. 

Dr.  VVhately  has  well  observed  that  while  a  fictitious 
case  which  has  not  this  intrinsic  probability  has  absolutely 
no  weight  whatever,  any  matter  of  fact,  on  the  other  hand, 
however  unaccountable  it  may  seem,  has  some  degree  of 
weight  in  reference  to  a  parallel  case.  "  No  satisfactory 
reason,"  he  proceeds  to  remark,  "  has  yet  been  assigned  for 
a  connection  between  the  absence  of  upper  cutting  teeth,  or 
of  the  presence  of  horns,  and  rumination;  but  the  instances 
are  so  numerous  and  constant  of  this  connection,  that  no 
Naturalist  would  hesitate,  if  on  examination  of  a  new  spe-* 
cies  he  found  those  teeth  absent  and  the  head  horned,  to 
pronoi  ace  the  animal  a  ruminant.*' 

$  156.  As  the  points  of  resemblance  between  difTer- 
ent  objects  are  diverse,  and  things  most  unlike  may 
yet  have  some  resemblance  to  each  other,  and  there- 
fore be  embraced  under  the  same  class,  it  becomes  im- 
portant in  the  use  of  this  kind  of  argument,  on  the 
one  hand,  carefully  to  set  forth  the  particular  point  of 
resemblance  on  whic  the  argument  rests ;  and,  on 
the  other,  in  estimating  the  weight  of  the  argument 
to  reject  from  the  estimate  those  points  in  which  there 
is  no  resemblance 


I 


THK    TOPTCS. 


Ill 


Wliile  tliose  tirgiinients  which  rest  on  resombliinoos  in 
obj  'cts  most,  titilike  are  genernlly  in  fheinselvcs  more  slrik- 
Uiir  and  forcible,  they  are  yet  often  sophisticnlly  invaii(hitcd 
und  rejected,  because  in  most  respects  they  are  so  dissimilar. 
On  the  other  hand,  no  sophistry,  perhaps,  is  more  common 
than  that  of  assuming  a  resemblance  in  all  points  where 
there  is  such  resemblance  in  many.  In  the  use  of  this 
species  of  aronment,  it  becomes,  then,  of  the  utmost  impor- 
tance to  bear  in  mind  both  that  the  most  similar  things 
dilTer  in  some  respects,  and  perhaps  in  that  very  point  on 
which  the  argument  in  a  given  case  depends;  and,  also,  that 
^he  most  dissimilar  things  may  have  some  propertied  or 
relations  in  common,  and  may  therefore  furnisli  louudations 
for  valid  reasoning. 

The  decisive   test    of    the   soundness   of    all   arguments 
founded  on  resemblance,  is  furnished  in  the  inquiry:  do  the 
particulars  of  resemblance  owe  their  existence  to  the  same 
cause'  or,  where  the  cause  is  not  known,  to  the  same  law? 
A.S  the  whole  force  of  examples  as  arguments  rests  on  the 
hameness  of  the  cause,  or  of  the  law  which  has  given  origin 
to  the  resemblances  on  which  the  classification  depends,  the 
detection  of  this  cause  or  law,  where  possible,  will  ever  dis- 
cover the  validity  or  invalidity  of  the  example  as  an  argu- 
ment.    Just  so  far  as  there  remains  a  doubt  of  the  same- 
ness of  the  cause  or  law,  so  far  must  there  be  weakness  in 
the  argument. 

§  157.  Wliile  all  simple  arguments  may  be  referred 
to  some  one  of  the  foregoing  classes,  many  complex 
ari^iiments  partake  of  the  nature  of  two  or  more ; 
their  force  in  reasoning  is  consequently  modified  in 
reference  to  the  icspective  character  of  the  classes  oi 
arguments  of  the  nature  of  which  they  partake. 


% 


112 


COMIK'.MATION. 


u 


What  is  often  called  a  prion  reasoning  not  unfrequenllv 
includes  in  itself  not  only  an  antecedent  probability  argu- 
ment, but  also  a  sign_,  or  an  example.     Fronn  the  falling  of 
the  barometer,  we  infer  a  priori  that  there  will  be  a  change 
of  the  weather;  not  because  we  suppose  the  fall  of  the  mer- 
cury to  be  the  cause  of  the  change,  but  because  it  is  the  sijrn 
of  the  existence  of  the  cause.     We  in  this  case,  in  truth, 
first  argue  by  a  sign,  to  the  existence  of  a  cause,  and  then 
by  an  antecedent  probability  argument,  to  its  effect,  viz:  a 
change  of  fhe  weather.     In  the  argument  in  "the  Goodridge 
case,"  before  referred  to,  §  144,  several  circumstances  are 
advanced  as  signs  in  proof  of  a  cause  or  motive  to  feign  a 
robbery;  from  which  cause,  thus  proved,  the  inference  was 
that  the  prosecution  was  groundless. 

Lord  Chatham  in  his  speech  '^on  removing  the  troops 
from  Boston,*'  argues  the  continued  and  determined  resis- 
tance of  the  Americans  to  an  arbitrary  system  of  taxation 
from  the  spirit  of  liberty  which  animated  them  in  common 
with  all  Englishmen;  and  the  existence  of  this  spirit  is 
proved  by  an  example — the  proceedings  of  the  General 
Congress  at  Philadelphia.  This  would  ordinarily  be  called 
an  a  priori  argument,  inasmuch  as  the  force  of  it  rests 
mainly  on  the  existing  cause  to  produce  the  continued  resist- 
ance. But  an  "example,"  which  is  of  the  nature  of  an  a  pos' 
teriori  argument,  is  introduced  to  prove  the  existence  of  the 
cause,  and  the  intermediate  step  of  the  argument,  the  cause 
itself,  is  not  expressed  but  only  implied. 

In  the  same  speech  we  have  another  form  of  the  combi- 
nation of  the  antecedent  probability  argument  with  tlie  ex- 
ample. The  example  is  introduced,  not  as  in  the  other  case, 
to  orove  the  antecedent  probability  argument  itself,  but  to 
confirm  it  as  proof  of  the  main  proposition.  The  speaker 
exemplifies  the  working  of  that  spirit  of  liberty  in  the  eflec* 


THE    TOPICS. 


113 


tual  opposition  to  ''  loans,  benevolences,  and  ship-money  in 
England/*  in  the  procuring  of  ''  the  bill  of  rights/'  &c. 
The  reasoning,  as  a  whole,  is  a  priori;  but  is  complex,  con- 
sisting  of  an  antecedent  probability  argument  and  examples. 

By  an  a  priori  argument,  the  faci  of  a  revelation  from 
heaven  is  inferred  from  the  genet  al  corruption  of  the  human 
race.  The  argument  consists  of  an  antecedent  probability 
argument — tlie  determination  of  God  to  do  all  that  is  neces- 
sary  to  effect  the  rt^covery  of  the  race;  and  of  a  sign — the 
corruption  of  the  race,  to  prove  the  necessity  of  such  an 
interposition  by  revelation. 

A  posteriori  reasoning,  also,  often  includes  arguments  of 
different  classes.  From  the  migration  of  birds  to  the  north, 
we  infer  that  some  of  the  various  effects  of  spring  have  ap- 
peared in  the  place  of  their  hibernation.  From  the  migra- 
tion of  birds,  as  a  sign,  we  infer  the  return  of  warm  weather 
as  its  cause;  and  from  this  we  infer  again,  by  an  antecedent 
probability  argument,  the  usual  effects  of  the  return  of 
spring. 

While  both  a  priori  and  a  postei'iori  res^soning  thus  often 
contain  arguments  of  two  or  more  classes,  there  is  yet  an 
obvious  distinction  between  them.  In  the  former,  the  ante- 
cedent probability  argument  is  the  one  on  which  the  force 
of  the  reasoning  mainly  depends;  in  the  latter,  the  sign  or 
the  example  is  the  prominent  argument. 

The  analysis  of  complex  arguments  will  often  discover 
the  precise  amount  of  validity  due  to  them.  It  will  disclose 
also  the  point  where  the  sophistry  of  a  suspected  proof  en- 
ters. 

Testimony  and  authority,  also,  often  combine  arguments 

of  different  species,  and  are  themselves  frequently  combined 

together  in  the  same  process  of  reasoning. 

What  is  often  called   ri>fiso7iing  from  experience,  is  (^is- 

1(1* 


'^:/'  :i 


■  ;j 


■II 


•;! 


'1/ 


114 


CONFIRMATION. 


tinguislied  from  otlier  species  of  reasoning  only  by  the 
source  from  which  the  arguments  are  derived.  It  compre- 
hends mainly  those  arguments  which  are  in  §  139  denomi- 
nated empirical. 

The  argument  from  progressive  approach,  so  called,  is 
but  a  species  of  induction,  in  which  we  argue  from  the  in- 
crease or  diminution  in  the  efifect  according  as  a  particular 
cause  is  increased  or  diminished  in  several  examples,  to  the 
perfect  completeness,  or  the  entire  removal  of  the  effect 
when  the  cause  is  perfectly  operative  or  wholly  removed. 
E.  g.  If  we  put  a  ball  in  motion  on  a  rough  surface,  its 
motion  soon  ceases;  on  a  smoother  surface,  its  motion  is 
proportionally  prolonged:  hence,  we  infer  that  if  there  were 
no  resistance  at  all,  the  motion  would  be  perpetual.  A 
sophistical  use  of  this  argument  has  been  made  by  some 
enthusiastic  advocates  of  Temperance.  They  have  assumed 
that  disease  and  death  are  the  consequence  e.xlusively  of  a 
corrupt  constitution  inherited  from  parents  who  have  viola- 
ted the  laws  of  health,  or  of  a  transgression  of  those  laws 
by  the  individual  himself.  They  then  urge  the  facts  that 
temperance  and  correct  regimen  promote  health  and  long 
life,  just  in  proportion  as  the  constitution  is  free  from  origi- 
nal corruption  and  the  laws  of  health  are  observed.  They 
hence  infer  that  a  perfect  and  universal  observance  of  the 
laws  of  health  will  in  time  purify  the  stock  itself;  the  hu- 
man constitution  will  be  restored  to  its  perfect  state,  and 
disease  and  death  will  disappear. 

§  158.  Empirical  proofs  never  carry  with  them- 
selves necessary  certainty ;  although  they  possess  all 
degrees  of  probability,  from  mere  probability  to  full 
but  not  necessary  certainty. 

Proofs  derived  from  our  own  experience  we  can  never 


J  by  the 

t  compre- 

denomi- 

calledj  is 
Ti  the  in- 
particular 
Bs,  to  the 
the  effect 
removed, 
irface,  its 
notion  is 
iiere  were 
tual.  A 
by  some 
assumed 
^ely  of  a 
Lve  viola- 
lose  laws 
acts  that 
and  long 
am  origi- 
1.  They 
;e  of  the 
the  hu- 
tate^  and 

h  them- 

isess  all 

to  full 

m  never 


THE    TOPICS. 


115 


i 


■I 


question.  They  are  decisive  so  far  as  they  go;  but  the  cer- 
tainty which  they  produce  is  very  dirrereiit  from  that  v»  hich 
is  produced  by  analytic  and  intuitive  reasoning. 

Antecedent  probability  arguments  sometimes  produce  lull 
certainty.  If  the  cause  certainly  exists  and  no  hindrance 
can  arise,  the  effect  is  certain;  and  the  proof  is  decisive  of 
belief.  Just  so  far  as  doul  may  arise  in  regard  to  the 
sufficiency  of  the  cause  or  the  opportunity  of  its  operating, 
just  so  far  will  the  reasoning  from  this  class  of  proofs  be 
invalidated. 

Signs  possess  full  certainty,  or  higher  or  lower  degrees  of 
probability,  according  as  the  cause  or  occasion  to  be  proved 
bv  them  is  more  or  less  necessary  to  their  existence. 

'  The  conclusiveness  of  examples  as  proofs  depends  on  the 
question  whether  they  are  determined,  in  the  particular 
character  in  which  they  are  presented  as  proofs,  by  the  same 
cause  which  is  supposed  to  produce  the  thing  to  be  proved, 
$  156.  From  observing  the  organic  structure  in  one  plant, 
the  naturalist  will  safely  conclude  in  regard  to  any  ot)>er 
plant  of  the  same  species.  He  cannot,  however,  so  conclude 
in  regard  to  the  color.  But  one  cause  can  be  supposed  to 
operate  in  the  former  case;  in  the  latter,  various  causes  may 
have  influence. 

§  159.  Fi-om  the  diverse  nature  of  the  different 
kinds  of  arguments  enumerated  it  will  appear  at  once 
that  while  some  are  apphcal)le  to  all  subjects,  others 
are  adapted  only  to  particular  kinds  of  subjects. 

Analytical  proofs  are  applicable  to  every  kind  of 
subject,  as  is  obvious  from  their  nature. 

Of  Synthetkal  proofs,  the  intuitive  class  belong  to 
mathematical  reasoning  or  pure  science. 
Empirical  proofs  are  employed  in   all  reasoning 


116 


CONFIllxMATlON. 


that    respects    matters  of   experience,   whether   the 
reasoning  terminates  on  facts  or  on  general  truths. 


CHAPTER  V. 

OP  THE  ARRANGEMENT  OF  ARGUMENTS. 

§  160.  The  importance  of  attention  to  arrangement 
in  confirmation  depends  mainly  on  two  principles. 

The  first  respects  the  state  of  the  mind  addressed. 
The  method  suited  to  a  mind  favorably  disposed,  will 
generally  be  unsuitable  to  a  mind  opposed  to  convic- 
tion, and  vice  versa. 

The  second  principle  respects  the  dependence  of  the 
proofs  on  one  another.  Some  proofs  are  explained  by 
others,  which  must  be  previously  exhibited  in  order  to 
the  full  effect  of  the  reasoning.  Some  proofs  presup- 
pose others.  Some,  once  more,  have  great  weiglit  if 
preceded  by  certain  others,  and  are  of  little  moment 
unless  preceded  by  them. 

The  force  and  effect  of  reasoning  depends,  indeed,  hardly 
less  on  the  order  than  on  the  mit'  ;r  of  .the  proofs.  Perfectly 
conclusive  arguments  when  presented  in  the  proper  order 
may  lose  all  their  force  if  advanced  in  a  different  order. 

§  161.  If  the  proof  advanced  be  single  but  suscepti- 
ble of  analysis,  the  principle  which  regidates  the  ar- 
rangement of  the  parts  will  obviously  be  tlie  same  as 
tha   in  analytic  explanation,  §S  94 — 106. 

For  illustration.  Dr.  Barrow,  in  his  discourse  on  the 
Divine  Impartiality,  presents  in  the  a  priori  part  of  his 
reasoning  the  following  arguments  from  the  divine  attributes 
as  analysed  by  division,  viz:  1.  From  God's  wisdom;  2 


ther   the 
ruths. 


ITS. 

ngement 
ciples. 
ddressed. 
Dsed,  will 
0  convic- 


ice  of  the 
aiued  by 

order  to 
5  presiip- 
veiglit  if 

moment 

;d,  hardly 
Perfectly 

per  order 
order. 

suscepti- 

is  the  ar- 

same  as 

5  on  the 
lit  of  his 
attributes 
sdom;  2 


ARRANGKMENT    OF    ARGUAU.NTS. 


117 


his  righteousness;  3.  his  pouei;  4.  his  guodaess.  Tliese 
arguments  from  God's  attributes,  together  with  those  from 
iiis  relations^  form  the  heads  of  his  a  priori  reasoning. 

His  a  posteriori  argument  is  analysed  by  partition.  The 
parts  given  are  1.  God  has  proposed  the  same  terms  to  all 
of  obtaining  his  favor;  2.  He  has  furnished  the  same  means 
and  aids  to  all;  3.  He  has  provided  the  same  encouragements; 
4.  He  watches  over  all  alike  in  his  providence;  5.  He  has 
conferred  on  Christians  the  same  privileges;  G.  He  holds  all 
alike  subject  to  the  same  fmal  retribution. 

§  102.  If  the  reasoning  embrace  arguments  of  dis- 
tinct classes,  the  principle  of  arrangement  is  to  be 
sou"-ht,  first,  in  the  state  of  the  mind  addressed. 

If  there  be  already  a  state  of  belief,  and  the  object 
of  the  discourse  is  to  confirm  and  strengthen  it, 
then  the  weaker  arguments  will  generally  need  to  be 
placed  first  and  the  stronger  ones  last.  In  this  way 
the  deepest  and  strongest  hnpression  will  be  the  last. 

If  there  be  an  opposing  belief  to  be  set  aside,  it  will 
1  e  better  to  advance  the  stronger  first,  in  order  to  over- 
throw opposition  at  once.  The  weaker  may  follow 
which  will  serve  to  confirm  when  they  would  be 
of  no  avail  in  the  first  assauU.  In  order  tc  leave, 
however,  a  strong  impression,  some  of  the  stronger 
should  be  reserved  to  the  close ;  or.  what  is  equivalent, 
the  arguments  may  be  recapitulated  in  the   reverse 

order. 

Although  this  principle  of  arrangement,  derived  from  a 
consideration  of  the  state  of  the  mind  addressed,  is  not  the 
higher  and  more  controlling  one,  but  must  generally  give 
way  to  the  next  to  be  named,  still  the  state  of  the  mind 


'W, 


i'ii 


w 


l;  '    li 


118 


COMIUMATION. 


that    will    often 
'    employed  as 


addressed    must    be    first    consulted,    ^f 
determine  what  kind  of  aiguments  aiv- 
well  as  the  order  of  arrangement. 

This  principle,  it  will  be  observed,  respects  only  the  com- 
parative strength  of  the  arguments. 

§  163.  The  second  principle  to  be  regarded  in  the 
arrangement  of  proofs  respects  the  dependence  of  the 
arguments  on  one  another. 

This  princi])le  requires,  in  the  first  place,  that  the 
analytic  proofs  precede  all  others. 

The  reason  of  this  rule  is  obvious.  As  in  exhibiting  a 
proof  of  this  class,  the  proposition  itself  must  necessarily  be 
explained,  the  relevance  and  force  oi  every  other  proof  will 
be  more  clearly  seen  after  such  an  explanation.  In  a  judicial 
question,  for  example,  whether  certain  specified  acts  consti- 
tute legal  murder,  after  the  definition  of  under  has  been 
given,  the  arguments  from  authority  or  **  legal  precedents" 
will  obviously  be  more  intelligible  and  also  of  more  force 
as  confirmatorv. 

§  164.  This  principle  requires,  in  the  second  place, 
that  antecedent  probahility  argiiments  precede  eX' 
amples  and  signs. 

The  example,  introduced  after  the  antecedent  probability 
argument,  will  serve  both  to  illustrate  and  also  toconfiim 
it.  Indeed,  in  this  order,  they  reflect  light  on  each  other. 
Mr.  Burke,  in  his  speech  on  the  Nabob  of  Arcot^s  debts,  in 
endeavoring  to  prove  that  India  had  been  reduced  to  a  con- 
dition of  extreme  want  and  wretchedness,  first  presents  the 
causes  in  operation  to  produce  it;  then,  examples  of  the 
operation  of  those  causes;  and  finally  particular  signs  of  the 
fact.     The  mind  very  readily  receives  the  whole  statement. 


TIIK    HUllOKN    OF    J»JlOOF. 


119 


because,  from  the  view  of  the  cause,  tlie  effects  are  naturally 
anticipated. 

In  Dr.  Barrow's  discourse  on  the  Divine  Impartiality, 
the  a  priori  arguments  are  with  obvious  propriety  presented 
first*  and  then  the  a  posteriori  arguments.  If  the  order  had 
been  reversed  the  force  of  the  reasoning  would  have  been 
greatly  weakened. 

A  charge  of  fraud  against  a  man  generally  reputed  to  bo 
of  upright  character  would  need  a  strong  array  of  proof 
from  signs,  as  testimony  and  the  like,  to  substaritiate  it. 
But  let  a  spirit  of  covetousness  be  hrst  proved  in  him,  and 
especially  if  a  single  example  be  adduced  in  which  that 
spirit  has  led  aside  from  what  was  upright  and  manly,  and 
a  very  small  amount  of  proof  will  suffice  to  establish  the 
charge. 

In  like  manner  the  proof  of  the  divine  authenticity  of  the 
Bible  is  conclusive  wht .»  sufficient  cause  is  first  shown  foi 
such  an  interposition  from  God,  and  then  the  arguments  from 
testimony,  and  the  internal  evidence,  are  presented.  But 
without  such  cause  being  first  shown,  scarcely  any  amount 
of  testimony  will  be  sufficient  to  overcome  the  repugnance 
of  the  mind  to  believe  that  a  miracle  has  been  wrought. 


■if 


CHAPTER  yi. 

OF    PRESUMPTION,    OR    THE    BURDEN    OP    PROOF. 

§  165.  It  is  of  great  importance  in  argumentation 
to  determine  at  the  outset  both  in  reference  to  t!i<j 
main  proposition,  and  also  in  reference  to  the  particii- 
lar  facts  or  truths  assumed  as  proofs,  whether  they 


120 


COM-iKMATlON. 


may  be  fairly  presumed  or  taken  for  granted  until 
disproved.  Tliis  is  called  determining  on  which  side 
the  PRESUMPTION  is,  or  on  which  the  burden  of 
PROOF — onus  probandi — Hes. 

The  importance  of  determining  this    poiut  consists    not 
merely  in  the  fact  that  thereby  the  labor  of  proof  may  often 
be  saved,  but  still  more  in  the  fact,  that   the  mere  under- 
taking to  prove  what  ought  to  be  presu?ned,  will  often  throw 
doubt  upon  what  was  clear  and  unquestionable.     The  ve- 
racity of  a  witness  is  ever  to  be  taken  for  granted  until  it  is 
impeached.     If  one  were  to  volunteer  a  defence  of  the  char- 
acter of  a  witness  before  it  had  been   questioned,  the  very 
attempt  would  excite  a  suspicion  that  the  character  needed 
some  bolstering,  and  that  the  advocate  was  influenced  by 
his  own  distrust  to  make  the  attempt.     So,  likewise,  if  a 
man,  who  had  been  slandered,  were  to  undertake  a  defeuce 
against  the  slander,  instead  of  throwing  the  whole  burden 
of  proof  on  the  slanderer,  and  putting  him  to  the  task  of 
making  out  a  case,  even  perfect  innocence,  and  that  which 
otherwise  would  appear  so  to  all,  might  be  blackened  by 
suspicion. 

The  great  advantage  that  the  side  on  which  the  presump- 
tion lies  has  over  the  opposite,  consists  in  this,  that  it  must 
triumph  unless  a  decisive  case  is  made  out  against  it: — it 
has  all  the  benefit  of  a  doubtful  result.     If  the  course  of 
procedure  were  now  reversed,  and  the  criminal  were  required 
to  prove  his  innocence  instead  of  the  government  being  re- 
quired to  establish  his  guilt,  few  that  are  accused  would 
probably  escape  condemnation.     As  it  is,  a  slight  shade  of 
doubt  as  to  the  guilt,  even  although  the  probability  is  alto- 
gether against' him,  results  for  the  benefit  of  the  accused. 
The  discussions  that  have  arisen  on  the  laws  providing  for 


THE    ULllDHN    OK    PHOOP.  X^l 

the  imprisomnent  of  cKbtf.is,  have  exhibited  most  forcibly 
of  how  great  advantage  it  is  to  bo  relieved  from  the  onus 
probandi.  It  has  been  strenuously  insisted  by  some  that  the 
creditor  should  take  all  the  burden  of  proof  on  himself,  and 
make  out  a  clear  case  of  fraud,  before  compulsory  process 
against  the  person  of  the  debtor  shall  be  issued.  The  ex- 
treme difficulty  of  proving  fraud  in  many  cases  has  led 
others  to  take  the  ground  that  a  failure  to  pay  an  honest 
debt  raises  a  presumption  of  fraud  which  the  debtor  may 
reasonably  be  held  to  remove  by  oath  or  evidence.  It  is 
obvious  that  the  adoption  of  the  one  or  the  other  of  these 
principles,  would  greatly  affect  the  facility  of  enforcing  the 
payment  of  debts.  Here  not  only  will  the  creditor  or  the 
debtor  have  the  advantage  of  a  doubtful  case  according  as 
the  presumption  is  on  one  side  or  the  other,  but  the  decision 
of  this  point  will  determine  to  a  great  extent  on  what  kind 
of  evidence  the  question  of  fraud  shall  turn — upon  that 
which  is  in  the  possession  of  the  creditor,  or  upon  that  in 
possession  of  the  debtor.  It  will  not  unfrequently  occur 
thus  that  the  decision  of  the  question  will  go  one  way  or  the 
other  according  as  the  evidence  or  proof  is  derived  from  this 
side  or  from  that  side;  and  this  is  determined  by  the  ques- 
tion, where  lies  the  presumption  in  the  case? 

Although  it  will  generally  be  easy  to  determine  on  which 
side  the  burden  of  proof  lies,  it  may  be  of  service  to  lay 
down  some  general  principles  which  regulate  the  determin- 
ation of  this  matter, 

§  166.  The  first  general  principle  in  regard  to  the 
burden  of  proof  is,  that  the  affirmative  of  every  issue 
is  to  he  proved. 

This  is  a  princip  e  in  English  jurisprudence  derived  from 


a 


'/I'  '  '        'il 


i'li  .:,:'i, 


I 


ll')-?'  i 


122 


CONIIUMATION. 


the  maxim  of  the  civil  law:    '  Ei  incumhit  prohatia  p^S 
dicit,  noil  qui  negat.' 

Tliis  is  not,  however,  a  principle  of  universAl  appjication, 
and  must  often  give  way  to  some  others  to  be  named  in  the 
fullowiiig  sections. 

In  tlie  interpretation  of  this  principle  it  should  be  borne 
in  mind  that  the  stress  is  to  be  laid  on  the  fact  of  alleging  or 
allirming,  not  on  the  form  of  the  proposition  itself  as  affir- 
mative or  negative.  The  principle  is,  he  who  alleges  ?mtst 
prove.  If  the  allegation  be  in  the  negative  form,  it  does 
not  shift  the  burden  of  proof.  The  fundamental  ground  on 
which  the  principle  rests  is,  that  whatever  is  new  shall  be 
accounted  for.  He  who  makes  an  allegution  puts  into  being 
a  statement  that  did  not  exist  before.  He  is  properly  call- 
ed upon  to  account  for  it — prove  it  and  thus  make  it  a  truth. 

§  1(37.  The  presumption,  farther,  is  generally  in 
favor  of  what  already  exivSts  and  against  a  change, 
whether  the  cpiestion  be  one  of  truth,  of  right,  or  ex- 
pediency. 

There  is  a  presumption,  thus,  in  favor  of  prevailing 
opinions  and  sentiments.  They  are  not  to  be  rejected  until 
evidence  has  been  advanced  against  them.  Even  such  as 
seem  at  first  sight  absurd  or  ridiculous  are  sometimes  found 
afterwards  to  be  founded  in  truth.  The  Indians  living  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  North  American  Lakes,  generally  entertained 
the  opinion  that  these  lakes  were  subject  to  a  periodical  rise 
and  fall.  This  was  ridiculed  at  one  time  as  an  absurd 
superstition  ;  subsequent  observations,  however,  seem  to 
countenance  the  Indian  tradition. 

On  the  other  hand,  tlie  proposer  of  new  opinions  may  be 
justly  called  upon  to  present  evidence  in  their  favor;  and 
may  be  properly  regarded  as  unworthy  of  credit  until  such 


lay 


be 


and 


THK    BiKDKN    OK    I^IIOOF. 


123 


evidence  be  produced.  He  cannot  even  claim  (liat  the  public 
mind  should  be  in  a  slate  ol'  impartial  e(juilibriuni.  His 
opinions  must  be  rejected  until  positive  evidence  be  adduced. 
So,  likewise,  there  is  a  presumption  in  favor  of  existing- 
institutions;— that  they  are  founded  in  truth  and  reason,  and 
are  for  the  public  benefit.  The  fact  that  they  exist,  creates 
a  claim  in  tiieir  favor  which  cannot  be  overbalanced  by  evi- 
dence against  them,  that  would  suffice  in  a  case  exactly 
poised  in  the  opinions  of  men.  The  reformer  is  required  to 
make  out  a  clear  positive  case,  before  he  can  expect  to  be 
credited. 

§  1G3.  The  presumption,  moreover,  is  in  favor  of 
rectitude ;  in  other  words,  should  be  charitable. 

It  is  a  reasonable  principle  in  law,  thus,  that  a  man  be 
accounted  innocent  of  crime  until  he  be  proved  guilty.  A 
witness  is  to  be  believed,  unless  evidence  is  furnished  of 
falsehood.  A  man^s  integrity,  generally,  may  not  be  ques- 
tioned until  proof  appears  against  him.  His  motives,  also, 
are  to  be  regarded  as  pure  until  impeached  by  positive  evi- 
dence. 

This  is  a  principle,  not  only  supported  by  considerations 
of  expediency,  since  the  charitable  man  generally  succeeds 
best  in  avoiding  the  ills  and  securing  the  enjoyments  of  life, 
but  founded  in  abstract  truth  and  reason. 

§  169.  Once  more,  the  presumption  is  on  the  side 
of  whatever  promotes  the  well-being  of  men,  and 
against  whatever  is  restrictive  or  injurious. 

There  is  a  presumption,  thus,  in  favor  of  Christianity, 
because  it  is  favorable,  as  is  admitted  ev»n  by  its  enemies, 
to  the  best  interests  of  human  society.  The  presumption, 
on  the  other  hand,  lies  against  whatever  retards  the  progress 


mm 


i 


JM 


124 


COiVKHlMATlON. 


of  society,  restricts  or  ccrifines  the  energies  of  men,  or  inju* 
riouslv  atVects  their  best  interests. 

The  ultimate  general  principle  ou  which  ull  these  par- 
ticular maxims  of  presumption  rest,  seems  to  be  this:  that 
the  world  is  governed  by  infinite  intelligence  controlled  by 
perfect  rectitude  and  goodness.  In  respect  to  this,  the  sen- 
timent is  true,  that  "  whatever  is,  is  right";  and  the  proper 
and  the  genuine  results  of  goodness  and  truth  harmonize 
Avith  each  other,  and  also  with  what,  for  the  most  part, 
transpires  in  providence.  In  all  cases  of  presumption,  con- 
setpiently,  whatever  accords  with  the  natural  laws  of  provi- 
dence is  to  be  presumed  to  be  true,  right,  or  expedient,  as 
the  case  may  be. 

§  170.  One  piesunipt ion  may  sometimes  be  opposed 
by  another  :  when  the  circumstances  of  the  case  must 
determine  which  shall  outweigh  the  other. 

Mahonimedanism,  thus,  exists;  and  so  far  a  presumption 
lies  in  its  favor.  With  those  who  know  of  nothing  exist- 
ing in  incompatibility  with  it,  and  who  are  not  informed 
or  convinced  in  regard  to  its  evil  effects,  perhaps,  this  fact 
of  its  existence  would  furnish  a  strong  presumption  in  favor 
of  continuing  it.  But  its  allowance  of  violence,  and  its  evil 
effects  generally,  are  to  those  who  are  convinced  of  this,  a 
sufficient  rebutter  against  the  presumption  drawn  from  the 
fact  of  its  existence. 


REFUTATION. 


126 


ase  must 


CHAPTER  VII. 

OP   REFUTATION. 

§  171.  By  REPUTATION,  in  its  more  limited  sense, 
is  meant  the  overthrow  of  opposing  arguments. 

Refutation  is  sometimes  taken  in  the  sense  of  defense 
generally.  Thus  the  argument  of  the  defendant  in  a  judi- 
cial  trial,  has  been  denominated  a  refutation.  But  in  the 
more  proper  use  of  the  word,  refutation  has  been  restricted 
to  objections  or  opposing  arguments. 

§  172.  Refutation  proper  consists  in  tho  overthrow 
either  of  one  of  the  premises  on  which  an  objection 
rests,  or  of  the  conclusiveness  of  the  reasoning. 

While  refutation  is  governed  by  the  same  general  prin- 
ciples that  apply  to  all  argumentation,  and  has  to  do  with 
the  same  arguments  or  kinds  of  proof,  it  possesses  the  pecu- 
liarity, that  it  is  applied  to  the  overthrow  of  opposing  argu- 
ments. Hence,  a  more  direct  call  is  made  in  it  on  the  lo- 
gical principles  for  the  detection  of  sophistical  reasoning. 
The  overthrow  of  a  premise  falsely  or  incorrectly  assumed 
in  an  objection,  may,  indeed,  be  accomplished  in  other 
methods  common  to  all  reasoning;  but  the  detection  oi"  error 
in  the  course  of  the  reasoning  is  to  be  effected  in  accordance 
with  the  principles  of  logic,  which  expose  the  possible  modes 
of  sophistical  argumentation. 

§  173.  As  all  evidence  does  not  possess  the  charac- 
ter of  absolute  certainty,  it  is  possible,  in  some  cases, 
that  there  may  be  real  evidence,  or  valid  arguments, 
on  both  sides  of  the  question.  In  such  cases,  it  is  not 
indispensably  necessary  to  refute  the  opposing  argu- 
ments ;  but  it  may  be  sufficient,  while  allowing  it  its 


&h 


126 


CONFIRMATION. 


proper  weight,  to  overbalance  it  with  arguments  of 
greater  weiglit. 

This  is  a  principle  ever  to  be  borne  in  mind  th<at,  in  cases 
of  prol)able  rewsoaing  generally,  really  valid  arguments  may 
be  advanced  on  both  sides.  The  cxisteiice  of  such  unan- 
swerable arguments  should  not  confound  or  disconcert.  The 
opposite  side  may  still  be  that  of  truth.  In  such  case,  it 
seems  important  to  apply  the  principles  of  the  Topics;  to 
determine  carefully  the  degree  of  weight  to  be  allowed  the 
objection,  and  to  oppose  to  it  an  argument  of  a  higher  rank, 
or  an  accumulation  of  arguments  of  the  same  class. 

§  174.  Jt  is  always  somici  policy  to  state  objections 
fairly,  and  to  allow  them  all  the  force  to  which  they 
are  entitled. 

Nothing  is  more  opposed  to  persuasiveness  in  reasoning, 
than  the  appearance  of  unfairness.  Sound  principle  was 
accordingly  r.nkoned  by  the  ancients  among  the  three  essen- 
tial requisites  in  the  characttT  of  (he  orator.  Where  the 
speaker  is  to  appear  before  the  same  audience  frequently, 
or  to  address  one  acquainted  with  his  character  as  a 
candid  and  honest  reasoner,  the  necessity  of  observing 
this  principle  is  manifest.  And  even  where  the  general 
character  of  the  speaker  can  have  no  influence  in  favorably 
disposing  the  minds  of  the  hearers,  still,  as  unfairness  is  with 
difficulty  disguised,  and  even  suspicion  of  it  is  exceedingly 
prejudicial;  as,  moreover,  the  consciousness  of  candor  and 
fairness  will  give  the  speaker  himself  a  tone  of  confidence 
and  authority,  itself  most  favorable  to  eHect,  it  is  ever  safest, 
as  a  matter  of  policy,  to  conduct  the  argumentation  in  per- 
fect fairness. 

§  175.  The  principles  of  arrangement  in  regard  to 


lents  of 

in  cases 
jnts  may 
li  unan- 
ert.  The 
1  case,  it 
opics;  to 
)wed  the 
her  rank, 

ejections 
ich  they 

easoning, 
iiple  was 
ree  essen- 
Hiere  the 
equently, 
iter  as  a 
observing 
i  general 
favorably 
!ss  is  with 
ceedingly 
ndur  and 
;onfidence 
ver  safest, 
on  in  per- 

cgard  to 


INTRODUCTION    AND    PEBORA.TION.  127 

refutation,  are  substantially  the  same  as  those  which 
apply  to  direct  confirmation,  Chap.  V.  As  subordinate 
and  incidental  to  confirmation,  however,  the  applica- 
tion of  those  principles  to  refutation  becomes  slightly 
modified. 

In  the  first  place,  if  the  arguments  to  be  refuted  are 
sufficiently  met  in  the  main  direct  arguments,  the 
pro})cr  place  to  refute  them  is  in  the  course  of  presen- 
tation of  those  direct  arguments. 

In  the  next  place,  if  the  objections  are  independent 
of  the  direct  chain  of  reasoning,  they  should  be  an- 
swered at  the  commencement,  if  already  weighing  in 
f he  minds  of  the  audience ;  and  at  the  close,  if  they 
are  anticipated  as  about  to  arise  in  the  mind,  or  are  to 
be  presented  by  an  adversary. 


i 

I 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

OP    THE    INTRODUCTION    AND    PERORATION    IN  CON- 
FIRMATION. 

§  176.  The  Introduction  Explanatory  in  confirma- 
tion may  respect  the  proposition  itself,  the  particular 
mode  of  discussion  to  be  pursued,  or  some  circumstan- 
ces connected  with  the  occasion  of  speaking. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  particularize  the  several  topics  proper 
for  an  introduction  explanatory  in  confirmation.  It  is  suf- 
ficient to  turn  the  attention  of  the  speaker  to  those  general 
fields  of  view  which  it  may  be  important  for  him  to  sur- 
vey, that  he  may  ascertain  what  points  will  require  elucida- 


128 


CONFlR3IATIOr«. 


;ui'^; 


tion  in  order  to  prepare  the  way  for  the  ready  apprehensioo 
of  his  discourse. 

§  177.  The  Introduction  Conciliatory  in  confirma- 
tion will  respect  the  person  of  the  speaker,  the  char- 
acter of  the  proposition,  the  mode  of  discussion  or  the 
circumstances  of  speaking. 

§  178.  The  several  points  in  reference  to  the  per- 
son of  the  speaker,  to  which  attention  may  need  to 
be  directed  in  conciliation,  are  the  relation  of  the 
speaker  to  ihe  audience;  to  his  opponent;  to  the 
question  to  be  discussed,  and  to  the  occasion  of  speak- 
ing. 

§  ira  The  three  qualities  requisite  in  the  speaker 
in  reference  to  the  audience,  as  piescribed  by  the  an- 
cients, are  good  sense,  good  principle,  and  good 

WILL. 

Good  sease  is  requisite,  because  an  audience  will  deem 
itself  insulted  if  a  speaker  presumes  to  come  before  it  but  ill- 
informed  in  regard  to  the  matter  to  be  discussed.  The 
speaker,  from  his  very  office,  professes  his  ability  to  enlighten 
and  inform  his  audience.  Negligence  to  obtain  a  proper 
understanding  of  the  subject,  shows  at  once  aVant  of  ca- 
pacity to  speak,  or  a  high  contempt  of  the  audience. 

A  character  for  integrity  is  necessary,  inasmuch  as  just 

so  far  as  tlie  speaker  shows  himself  unworthy  of  confidence, 
.will  every  thing  he  says  be  received  with  misgivings  and 
^'suspicions;  while  the  bare  assertions  of  a  reputedly  honest 

man  will  often  be  received  with  the  submission  which  is  due 

to  actual  demonstration. 

If,  further,  the  audience  be  convinced  that  the  speaker  b 

•ctuated  by  good  will  to  them,  all  the  influence  of  the  fcelr 


INTRODUCTION    AND    PKllORATION. 


129 


ings  over  the  movements  of  the  intellect  will  be  favorable 
to  his  designs. 

While  general  reputation  or  character  in  regard  to  these 
qualities  will  be  most  serviceable  in  effecting  conciliation  so 
far  as  it  depends  on  them,  the  speaker  may  do  much  in 
removing  an  unfavorable  impression  from  the  minds  of  his 
hearers,  or  in  producing  one  that  is  favorable,  by  his  manner 
at  the  time.     The  characte.  of  his  discourse,  as  marked  by 
the  particular  features  of  intelligence,  familiarity  with  the 
subject;  gravity,  modesty,  pure  moral  sentiment;  by  kind 
ness,  deference,  and  respect  for  his  hearers,  will  conduce 
greatly  to  awaken  a  favorable  disposition  in  them  towards 
himself.     At  the  same  time,  indirect  professions  together 
with  allusions  to  facts  in  his  history  which  may  present  his 
character  favorably  in  these  respects,  may  be  often  benefi 
cially   employed. 

It  is  obvious  that  the  same  general  means  are  to  be  made 
■  use  of  as  well  when  an  unfavorable  disposition  is  to  be  set 
aside  as  when  a  favorable  sentiment  is  to  be  awakened. 

§  180.  The  speaker's  relation  to  his  opponent  will 
need  to  be  regarded  by  him,  whenever  the  character 
of  his  opponent  in  respect  to  the  three  points,  before 
named,  may  influence  the  mind  of  the  hearer;  and 
also,  wnenever  the  personal  relation  existing  between 
them  may  favorably  or  unfavorably  aflfect  the  disposi- 
tion of  the  hearer. 

Advantage,  thus,  may  be  taken  of  the  character  of  the 
adversary  as  being  ill-informed  in  the  case,  wanting  in  prin- 
ciple, or  unkindly  disposed  to  the  hearers.  Or  the  advan- 
tage which  an  opposite  character  may  give  an  opponent  will 
need  to  be  set  aside  or  lessened  by  counter  considerations. 
The  personal  relations  subsisting  between  the  speaker  and 


130 


CONFJRIMAT  ON. 


his  opponent  will  frequently  affect  the  disposition  of  the 
hearers  in  reference  to  the  discourse.  To  speal:  in  opposition 
to  one  closely  allied  in  any  of  the  social  relations  of  life,  will 
create  a  favorable  or  unfavorable  disposition  in  the  minds  of 
the  hearer,  according  as  it  may  appear  lo  them  to  have  been 
prompted  by  principle,  or  by  selfishness  or  malice. 

§  181.  Ti)e  speaker's  relations  to  the  subject  of  dis- 
cussion or  to  the  side  of  the  question  which  he  main- 
tains may,  also,  obviously  favorably  present  him  to 
the  audience  or  otherwise;  in  either  case,  they  will 
demand  his  attention. 

Exemplifications  of  this  kind  of  introduction  are  to  be 
found  in  Demosthenes*  Oration  on  the  Crown  where  he 
maintains  his  right  to  be  heard  as  one  equally  interested 
with  Ctesiphon  in  the  issue  of  the  trial;  in  Cicero's  Oration 
for  Cluentius,  against  whom  he  had  previously  spoken  with 
great  severity;  and  in  Erskine's  speech  on  the  trial  of  Thomas 
Paine. 

§  182.  Once  more,  the  occasion  of  speaking  will  often 
in  some  relation  which  the  speaker  may  bear  to  it, 
afTect  the  minds  of  the  hearers  and  render  necessary 
suitable  means  of  conciliation. 

Cicero  thus  in  his  oration  against  Csecilius  commences 
with  an  exposition  of  the  reasons  which  induced  him  who 
had  never  before  appeared  except  in  defence^  now  to  become 
a  prosecutor  against  Verres. 

§  183.  The  character  of  the  proposition  will  de- 
mand a  conciliatory  introduction  when  either  the  sub- 
ject generally  or  the  particular  view  taken  of  it  by  the 
speaker  at  the  time  is  likely  to  be  offensive  to  the 
hearers. 


4 


S 


INTRODUCTrON    AND        PERORATION. 


131 


i 


The  advantage  whicli  a  speaker  addressing  those  of  his 
own  party  or  sect  or  generally  those  of  the  same  principles 
with  himself  on  a  lopic  of  common  interest  to  them,  over  his 
opponents,  must  obviously  be  great;  and  while  it  becomes  him 
to  turn  this  advantage  to  good  account,  it  is  still  more  neces- 
sary to  his  opponent  to  lessen,  so  far  as  practicable  by  any 
of  the  various  means  of  conciliation,  this  prepossession  against 
himself.  In  the  famous  orations  on  the  crown,  Demosthenes 
had  to  encounter  the  natural  repugnance  which  men  {'^el 
against  hearing  a  man  commend  his  own  actions;  v/hile 
Aeschines  labored  under  the  conviction  that  the  judges  were 
of  the  party  of  his  adversary.  Each  orator,  accordingly,  in 
his  introduction,  endeavored  to  lessen  the  difficulty  which  he 
had  in  this  respect  to  encounter. 

§  184.  The  mode  of  discussioQ  imposed  on  the 
speaker  may  be  such  as  to  call  for  some  effort  at  con- 
ciliation in  the  Introduction  when  it  requires  him  to 
treat  of  topics  offensive  to  the  audience  or  to  make 
use  of  terms  or  a  course  of  reasoning  not  easily  intelli- 
gible to  them. 

In  /udicial  Eloquence,  thus,  arguments  embodying  pure 
legal  principles  are  generally  uninviting  and  with  diliiculty 
intelJ'giblu  (o  a  jury;  and  the  advocate,  who  would  secure  a 
favoTable  hearing,  will  need  to  use  much  address  and  art. 
So  [  Mr*ly  metaphysical  discussions  on  religious  subjects  be- 
fore a  popular  audience  generally  repel  and  offend.  INIen, 
moreover,  are  loath  to  hear  of  their  own  faults  or  weak- 
ncwes;  and  the  speaker  who  is  obliged  to  recur  to  them  has 
rfiison  to  fear  that,  unless  due  precaution  is  taken,  their  un- 
williiigacss  to  hear  will  entirely  prevent  the  intended  ell'ect 
of  his  discourse. 

§  185.  In  the  same  way,  tlie  circumstances  m  which 


*'• 


I 


13> 


CONFIRMATION. 


ill: 


ii;"! 


the  speaker  appears  before  his  audience  may  render 
them  indisposed  ta  a  favorable  hearing,  when  the  arts 
of  conciliation  suitable  to  the  case  will  be  needful. 

Th«  military  array  which  Pompey  had  thrown  around  the 
tribunal  on  the  trial  of  Milo  so  influenced  the  minds  of  the 
judges  that  Cicero  felt  it  necessary,  at  the  commencement  of 
his  oration,  to  allay  their  fears  and  turn  to  his  own  account 
the  influence  of  Pompey,  which  at  first  seemed  to  the  judges 
to  be  arrayed  against  him. 

§  186.  Several  of  these  varieties  of  conciliatory  In- 
troduction, it  may  often  happen,  must  be  combined  in 
the  same  action. 

The  speeches  of  Demosthenes  on  the  Crown,  and  of  Cicero 
in  the  case  of  Milo,  alluded  to  above,  are  examples  of  th« 
various  combinations  of  these  different  kinds  of  IntroductioxL 

$  187.  Confirmation  admits  all  the  various  kinds  of 
peroration  enumerated  in  $  70.  Recapitulation,  mor^ 
over,  will  here  be  especially  useful. 


PART  III.— EXCITATION. 


CHAPTER  I. 

GENERAL    INTRODUCTORY    VIEW. 

§  188.  In  Excitation  the  object  of  discourse  is  to 
move  the  feelings,  either  by  awakening  some  new 
affection,  or  by  strengthening  or  allaying  one  already 
existing. 

The  propriety  of  ranking  excitation  among  the  several 
objects  of  discourse,  and  of  founding  upon  this  object  a  dis^ 
tinct  species  governed  by  its  own  laws,  and  characterised  by 
peculiar  features,  will  hardly  be  questioned  by  any  who  re- 
cognize the  feelings  or  affections  as  a  distinct  class  of  mental 
phenomena.  In  fact,  we  find  a  class  of  discourses  con- 
structed in  particular  reference  to  this  object,  and  distin- 
guished from  all  others  by  peculiar  characteristics.  To  this 
class  belong  most  of  what  have  been  denominated  demonstra- 
tive discourses,  particularly  those  pronounced  on  funeral  and 
triumphal  occasions,  in  which  the  object  is  to  awaken  ad- 
miration, joy,  grief,  or  other  emotion.  Here  belongs,  like- 
wise, a  considerable  part  of  pulpit  oratory,  viz:  that  part,, 
the  object  of  which  is  to  awaken  or  cherish  some  christian 
affection  or  grace,  or  to  allay  or  remove  some  improper 
passion  iu  actual  indulgence. 

That  this  object  has  not  been  distinctly  recognised  in  sya^ 

12 


n. 


li  .hi 


134 


EXCITATION. 


terns  of  general  rhetoric  as  one  of  those  which  give  spccififl 
character  to  discourse  and  furnish  the  grounds  of  classilica- 
tion,  is  to  be  attributed  mainly  to  the  fact  that  iu  deliberative 
and  judicial  eloquence  this  can  seldom  if  ever  be  proposed  as 
a  leading  object,  and  such  systems  have  been  constructed 
chiefly  in  reference  to  those  departments  of  oratory. 

In  forensic  speaking,  however,  excitation  often  enters  in 
a  subordinate  office;  and  there  continues  subject  to  its  own 
regulating  principles,  although  modified  somewhat  by  the 
controlling  aim  of  such  discourse.  Indeed,  as  has  been  ol>- 
served  elsewhere,  the  various  forms  of  oratory,  as  explana- 
tion, confirmation,  excitation,  and  persuasion,  often  mingle 
together,  each  retaining  its  characteristic  features  in  the  same 
discourse;  while,  still,  it  remains  true  that  one  or  the  other 
must  in  every  case  predominate  and  give  character  to  the 
whole  discourse,  and  the  others  be  only  subservient  to  this 
main  design. 

§  189.  The  work  of  excitation  is  accomplished 
either  by  the  appropriate  presentation  of  the  object  of 
feeling  merely,  or  by  this  combined  with  the  power  of 
sympathy. 

The  two  departments  of  excitation  are,  accordingly, 
Pathetic  Explanation  and  the  Employment  op 
(Sympathy. 

The  feelings,  like  the  intellect,  belong  to  the  spontaneities 
of  the  mind;  and  are  only  indirectly  controlled  by  the  will. 
They  move  necessarily  more  or  less  on  the  presentation  of 
their  appropriate  objects.  They  are,  nevertheless,  as  pheno- 
mena of  the  same  mind,  subject  to  an  influence  from  the 
will  and  the  understanding,  as  well  as  from  the  general 
tone  and  habits  of  the  mind. 

It  will  sometimes  be  necessary  in  excitation  to  prove  a 


ivi'Miii* 


INTRODUCTORY      VIEW. 


186 


fact  or  truth.     But  this  process  is  only  incidental;  whcrea* 
(explanation  is  the  direct  means  oC  awakening  iVeling. 

§  190.  The  more  general  unity  of  the  discourse  in 
excitation  will  consist  in  the  singleness  of  the  therne ; 
the  narrower  unity,  in  the  singleness  of  the  feeling  or 
afTection  to  be  addressed. 

It  will  be  observed  that  the  theuie  as  well  as  the  feeling 
addressed,  may  be  individual  or  generic;  may  embrace  a 
single  object  or  a  class  of  objects.  Generally,  where  the 
feelitig  to  be  excited  is  made  the  germ  of  development,  the 
theme  will  embrace  the  several  particulars  addressed  to  the 
feeling. 

It  is  of  importance  to  distinguish  carefully  between  the 
theme  and  the  feeli.ig  addressed  in  excitation.  They  are 
not  unfrequently  confounded  in  popular  discourse.  We 
say,  thus,  in  loose  language,  that  the  subject  or  theme  of 
a  discourse,  the  design  of  which  is  to  awaken  "hope,' 
is  the  affection  itself — hope.  Properly  speaking,  this  is  the 
object  of  the  discourse,  while  the  theme  embraces  the  con- 
siderations presented  for  the  purpose  of  awakening  the 
affection. 

$  191.  The  form  of  the  discourse  in  excitation  will 
vary  according  as  the  theme  or  the  feeling  addressed, 
is  made  the  germ  of  the  development.  If  the  feel- 
ing addressed  furnish  the  germ,  the  discourse  will  be 
more  purely  excitatory  in  its  character ;  if  the  theme, 
the  discourse  will  have  more  of  an  explanatory  form. 

In  a  pulpit  dircourse,  thus,  the  passion  of  Jesus  Christ 
might  be  exhibited  as  a  single  fact  fitted  to  excite  various 
emotions,  as  of  gratitude,  love,  confidence.  In  this  case  the 
development  of  the  discourse  would   more  naturally  spring 


136 


EXCITATION. 


P' 

"~— -±i~ — 

fe-i 

p;.-; 

' '  ■'    i 

P 

•'.vil; 

T- 

from  the  particular  feelings  addressed.     They  would  consti- 
tute accordingly  the  leading  heads  of  the  discourse. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  same  fact  might  be  exhibited  as 
bearing,  in  several  distinct  aspects,  on  a  single  emotion  or 
grace  of  character.  Then  these  several  aspects  of  the  fact 
would  more  naturally  furnish  the  ground  of  distribution  and 
arranoement  in  the  discourse. 

D 

So  in  Panegyrics,  sometimes,  the  character  as  one  com- 
plex whole  or  a  single  feature  is  presented  with  the 
design  of  moving  the  affections  generally;  and  sometimes 
a  single  affection  is  addressed  by  the  exhibition  of  such  traits 
as  are  adapted  to  awaken  it. 

§  192.  In  excitation  it  is  more  necessary  than  in 
explanatory  or  argumentative  discourse  to  have  re- 
gard to  the  feelings  of  those  addressed ;  since  igno- 
rance or  mistake  here  may  occasion  an  entire  failure 
in  the  very  object  of  the  discourse. 

§  193.  The  mine  addressed  may  be  either  favorable 
or  unfavorable  or  indifferent  in  respect  to  the  object 
of  the  speaker. 

If  the  mind  be  favorable  or  indifferent,  the  object 
may  be  directly  presented  vv^ith  exhibitions  of  feeling 
corresponding  in  degree  to  the  state  of  feeling  in  the 
hearer. 

$  194.  If  the  mind  addressed  be  influenced  by  a 
feeling  opposed  to  that  which  the  speaker  desires  to 
awaken,  great  caution  is  necessary  in  undertaking  to 
remove  it.  as  a  direct  opposition  will  generally  only 
iiTitate  or  inflame  it  the  more. 

The  allaying  of  such  unfavorable  feeling  may  be 
accomplished  indirectlv  by  first  exhibiting  such  views 


INTRODUCTORY    VIEW. 


137 


object 

feeling 

in  the 


of  the  object  as  will  not  so  directly  oppose  the  exist- 
ing state  of  feeling  and  then,  as  interest  shall  be 
awakened,  by  passing  gradually  to  other  views  more 
favorable  to  the  object  of  the  speaker. 

Or  other  feelings,  in  their  nature  incompatible  with 
those  to  be  allayed,  and  yet  not  directly  opposed  to 
them,  may  be  awakened  and  thus  the  unfavorable 
feelings  be  displaced. 

The  speeches  of  Anthuny  in  the  Julius  Ciesar  of  Shakspeara 
furnish  fine  exemplifications  of  the  first  of  these  methods  of 
allaying  an  unfavorable  state  of  feeling.     Antliony  finds 
the  populace  triumphing  over  the  death  of  Ctesar  and  cheer- 
ing tlie  conspirators.      He  does  not  at  once  present  himself 
in  opposition.     He  appears,  at  first,  as  the  friend  of  Brutus. 
He  disclaims  all  intentions  of  praising  Ccxsar.     He  thus  gets 
their  attention;  fixes  it  on   Caesar  and   then  proceeding  to 
speak  of  his  faults  gradually  passes  to  defend  his  character, 
at  the  same  time,  miiigling  in  high  professions  of  respect  for 
the  conspirators,  till  finally,  the  rage  of  the  hearers  at  Cuesar's 
usurpations  and  tyranny  having  been  allayed,  he  presents 
the  proper  matter  for  turning  tr.eir  feelings  in  the  opposite 
direction,  and  leaves  them  clamoring  furiously  for  the  de- 
struction of  all  Caesar's  enemies. 

In  Brutus'  speech  just  preceding,  the  second  of  the  methods 
indicated  is  exemplified,  and  the  love  of  the  populace  for 
Caesar  is  artfully  displaced  by  their  love  to  their  country;  a 
gentiraent.  as  here  exhibited,  incompatible  with  attachment 
to  Csesar 


12» 


138 


EXCITATION. 


CHAPTER  TI. 


iM* 


■ 


OF    THE    TUKME    IN    EXCITATION. 

$  195.  As  the  theme  in  excitation  is  a  conception, 
$  123,  it  must  ever  appear  under  that  form. 

If,  consequently,  a  judgment  or  truth  be  presented 
as  the  object  in  reference  to  which  the  feelings  are  to 
be  viewed,  it  will  appear  in  the  form  of  a  dependent 
and  not  of  a  principal  clause. 

Generally  language  will  allow  the  expression  of  a  fact  oi 
truth,  when  used  as  a  thetne,  in  discourse,  either  in  the  form 
of  a  verb  or  of  a  noun.  We  may  equally  represent  the 
theme,  "  the  death  of  Christ,"  under  this  form  or  under 
the  form,  '^  That  Christ  died."  The  latter  form  turns  the 
mind  more  directly  and  unequivocally  on  the  fact  as  an  ac- 
tual occurrence;  and,  when  this  is  desired,  this  form  is  pre- 
ferable to  the  other. 

It  is  of  advantage  to  represent  the  theme  in  its  appropri- 
ate form;  as,  otherwise,  the  mind  might  unconsciously  be 
drawn  off  to  a  proof  of  the  fact  or  truth  instead  of  a  simple 
exhibition  of  it  for  the  purpose  of  exciting  feeling. 

§  196.  The  theme,  in  excitation,  farther,  must  em- 
brace the  object  of  the  feeling  addressed. 

AUhough  men  may,  possibly,  be  excited  to  a  blind  passion, 
so  to  speak,  that  is,  be  aroused  by  sympathy  or  otherwise 
in  reference  to  no  distinctly  apprehended  object,  it  can  yet 
never  be  regarded  as  a  proper  aim  of  rational  discourse  to 
produce  such  unintelligent  excitement.  It  is  true,  indeed, 
that  the  passions  never  move,  except  as  addressed  through 
the  intellect.,  and  even  in  the  ravings  of  a  mob  there  is 
some  iatellectual  perception,  still  ralionul  discourse  will  not 


THK    Til  KM E. 


139 


be  contented  with  this;  but  will  ever  aim  to  present  di». 
tiuctly  the  particular  object  in  reference  to  which  the  feel- 
ings  are  to  be  moved. 

§  197.  Tiie  general  piiiiciple  that  governs  in  regard 
to  the  statement  of  the  proposition  in  excitation  is 
tliis:  that  clearness  of  apprehension  and  inipressive- 
ness  require  the  statement,  unless  reasons  are  seen  to 

exist  wiiich  forl)iil. 

The  question  has  been  much  agitated,  whether  it  be  pro- 
per  at  all  to  avow  before  hand    addresses  to  the  feelings. 
Some  ivriters  have  disapproved  of  all  such  avowals  altogether. 
"The  first  and  most  important  point  to  be  observed  in  every 
address  to  any  passion,  sentiment,  feeling,  &c.,"  says  Dr. 
VVluitely,  "is  that  it  should  not  be  introduced  as  such,  and 
plainly  avowed ;  otherwise  the  etVect  will  be,  in  great  measure 
if  not' entirely,  lost.  *  *   When  engaged  in  reasoning,  pro- 
perly so  called,  our  purpose  not  only  need  not  be  concealed, 
but  may,  without  prejudice   to  the  effect,  be  distinctly  de- 
clared; on  the  other  hand,  even  when  the  feelings  we  wish 
to  excite  are  such  as  ought   to  operate,  so  that  there  is    no 
reason  to  be  ashamed  of  the  endeavor  thus  to  influence  the 
hearers,  still,  our  purpose  and  drift  should  be.  if  not  abso- 
lutely concealed,  ^et  not  openly  declared,  and  made  promi- 
nent'"     Even  when  the  sentiments  to  be  awakened  are  re- 
cognized as  proper  and  right,  he  thinks  "men  are  not  likely 
to  be  pleased  with  the  idea  that  they  are  not  already  suffi- 
ciently under  the  influence  of  such  sentiments,"  and  «  cannot 
but  feel  a  decree  of  mortification  in  making  the  confession, 
and  a  kind  of  jealousv  of  the  apparent  assumption  ot  superi- 
ority, in  a  speaker,  who  seems  to  say,  *  now  I  will   exhort 
you  to  \eel  as  you  ought  on  this  occasion;  "I  will  endeavor 
to  inspire  you  .vith  such  noble  and  generous   and  amiable 
Bcntim^nts  as  you  ought  to  entertain/  ' 


140 


EXCITATION. 


Ibi 


It  must  be  auir>itted  that  such  avowals  of  intention  ar  i 
be  rejected  on  every  principle  of  correct  taste.  But  i  is 
difficult  to  see  in  what  respect  they  are  more  faulty  t  (an 
precisely  similar  avowals  oi  intention  in  pure  argumentative 
or  explanatory  discourse;  as  "  I  will  instruct  you  to  think 
in  accordance  with  truth  on  this  subject";  "  I  will  endeavor 
to  convince  you  of  the  truth  on  this  question."  The  whole 
force  of  the  objection  lies  not  against  the  thing  itself-" 
the  statement  of  the  theme  and  object  of  the  discourse — 
but  against  an  improper /or;;j  of  stating  it. 

It  certainly  cannot  be  laid  down  as  a  universal  rule  that, 
in  an  address  to  the  feelings,  it  must  ever  be  wrong  to  state 
the  subject  in  respect  to  which  the  feelings  are  to  be  moved. 
That  in  pronouncing  a  eulogy  it  should  be  improper  for  the 
speaker  to  inform  the  audience,  at  the  outset,  of  the  subject 
of  the  eulogy  in  referf^nce  to  which  their  feelings  of  admira- 
tion are  to  be  excited;  that  in  endeavoring  to  inspire  senti- 
ments of  confidence  and  courage  it  should  be  improper  for 
a  statesman  to  mention  before  hand  those  circumstances 
and  facts  which  war.-ant  confidence  and  tend  to  awaken 
courage;  tliat  in  seeking  to  strengthen  the  sentiment  of 
christian  gratitude  for  the  blessings  of  the  gospel,  it  should 
be  improper  for  the  preacher  distinctly  to  propose  the  subject, 
as  the  richness  or  the  freeness  of  those  blessings  in  reference 
to  which  the  sentiments  of  gratitude  are  to  be  called  forth, 
no  one  surely  can  maintain. 

How  can  it  appear  more  improper  to  add,  also,  that  the 
particular  subject  is  to  be  presented  with  a  view  to  awaken 
suitable  feelings  of  admiration,  confidence^  or  gratitude,  &c. 
— in  other  words,  to  state  the  design  of  the  discourse?  What 
impropriety  can  there  be  in  a  christian  preacher^s  distinctly 
stating  that  he  proposes  the  gift  of  Jesus  Chri:?'  ^.o  men  as  a 
ground  and  reason  of  gratitude  to  CJod?     Who  will  ventur* 


THE    TJIEMF. 


f 


141 


on  ar      i 

[3ut  i  is 
ilty  t  (aa 
lentative 
to  think 
endeavor 
he  whole 
itself-'  - 
course — 

•ule  that, 
J  to  state 
3  moved, 
jr  for  flic 
e  subject 

adniira- 
re  senti- 
roper  for 
instances 

awaken 
nent  of 
it  should 
;  subject, 
reference 
sd  forth, 

that  the 
I  awaken 
tude,  &c. 
?  What 
Hstinctly 
nen  as  a 
I  ventur* 


I 


to  reprehend  the  following  statement  of  Demosthenes  in  his 
second  Philippic:  *^  First,  then,  Athenians,  if  there  be  a 
man  who  feels  no  apprehension  at  the  view  of  Philip's 
power,  and  the  extent  of  his  conquests,  who  imagines  that 
these  portend  no  design  to  the  state,  or  that  his  designs  are 
not  all  aimed  against  you,  I  am  amazed !  and  must  entreat 
the  attention  of  you  ail  while  I  explain  those  reasons  briefly 
which  induce  me  to  entertain  different  ex  -ec^itions." 

It  is  difficult  to  perceive  on  what  different  ground  ad- 
dresses to  the  feelings  stand  in  this  respect  from  addresses 
to  the  understanding  or  reason.  While  in  both  kinds  of 
address,  in  some  cases,  it  may  be  unadvisable  to  state  before- 
hand the  subject  or  the  object,  and  while  propriety  is  ever 
to  be  observed  in  the  manner  of  statement,  it  cannot,  any  more 
in  one  kind  than  in  the  other,  be  laid  down  as  a  universal 
principle  that  such  statements  should  be  avoided.  In  both 
kinds,  the  speaker  must  consult  the  relation  of  the  subject 
or  object  to  the  supposed  state  of  feeling  in  his  audience, 
and  by  that  determine  as  to  the  expediency  of  distinctly 
pre3enting  or  w^ithholding  the  subject  or  object  of  the  dis- 
course. 

§  198.  If,  however,  the  subject  itself  is  likely  to  give 
offense,  then  it  may,  in  part  or  in  whole,  be  kept  back 
till  interest  is  awakened  and  a  favorable  disposition  on 
the  part  of  the  hearers  secured. 

$  199.  If  the  subject  be  not  likely  to  give  offense 
but  the  feelings  already  entertained  by  the  hearers  in 
regard  to  it  are  opposed  to  the  speaker's  aim.  the  sub- 
ject may  be  stated  but  the  particular  object  suppressed. 

This  rule  is  exemplified  in  the  speech  of  Anthony  before 
alluded  to,  §  194. 

$  200.  It  may  be  well,  moreover,  for  the  sake  of 


142 


EXCITATION. 


securing  variety,  especially  in  a  speaker  who  is  called 
frequently  to  address  the  same  audience,  occasionally 
to  deviate  from  the  general  rule. 


CHAPTER  III. 

OP    PATHETIC    EXPLANATION. 

§  201.  The  exhibition  of  feeling  in  excitation  is 
governed  by  the  general  principles  of  explanatory  dis- 
course, but  is  modified  by  the  particular  design  in  this 
species  of  discourse  of  moving  the  feelings.  It  is  effected 
hy  any  of  the  various  processes  of  explanation,  viz: 
Narration,  Description,  Analysis,  Exemplification,  or 
Comparison  and  Contrast. 

As  the  ultimate  aim  ia  excitation  is  not  to  enlighten  or  in- 
form the  understanding,  but  to  do  this  only  for  the  sake  of 
exciting  the  feelings,  the  process  of  explanation  will  need 
here  to  be  carried  on  in  a  somewhat  dilferent  manner  from 
that  appropriate  to  purely  explanatory  discourse.  The  prin- 
cipal modifications,  which  this  difference  in  the  ultimate  aim 
of  the  discourse  will  require,  will  be  specified  in  the  follow- 
ing sections. 

§  202.  As  an  accmate  acquaintance  with  the  object 
is  not  the  particular  aim  in  excitation,  the  first  mo- 
dification of  the  general  principles  of  explanation  de- 
manded here  is,  that  only  those  points  or  features  in 
the  object  be  selected  which  are  adapted  to  the  feelings 
or  sentiments  to  be  awakened. 

Some  regard  must  be  had,  in  applying  this  principle  of 


PATHETIC    EXPLANATION. 


143 


1011,  viz: 


pathetic  explanatioa,  to  the  design  of  the  discourse,  whether 
it  be  to  produce  an  immediate  and  temporary  effect;  or  to 
excite  and  contirui  a  permanent  and  controlling  sentiment. 
If  the  latter,  then  care  mu^t  be  taken  to  communicate  such 
a  view  of  the  object  as  will  be  retained  in  the  memory,  and 
thus  be  long  present  to  influence  the  feelings.  In  other  words, 
the  explanation  must  be  more  full  and  complete,  and  con- 
form more  closely  to  the  general  principles  of  explanatory 
discourse.  Thus,  that  kind  of  preaching  which  gives  clear, 
full  and  rational  exhibitions  of  religious  truth,  will  be  better 
adapted  to  secure  a  permanent  high  degree  of  christian  feel- 
ing than  that  which,  by  selecting  only  the  more  striking 
views,  aims  at  the  highest  degree  of  excitement  at  the  mo- 
ment. 

The  speech  of  Anthony  may  be  again  cited  here  as  afford- 
ing a  happy  exemplification  of  this  principle  in  producing  a 
high  immediate  excitement.  In  exhibiting  the  character  of 
Cfjesar,  he  only  selects  those  features  which  were  adapted 
to  stir  up  a  strong  passionate  regret  for  his  death,  and  a 
stormy  indignation  against  the  conspirators.  He  artfully 
alludes  to  his  public  largesses,  his  sympathy  with  the  poor, 
his  rejection  of  the  proffered  diadem,  and  especially  to  his 
love  of  the  people  as  shown  in  his  will. 

$  203.  A  second  rule  ia  pathetic  explanation  is, 
that  particular  rather  than  general  views  be  taken  of 
the  object. 

As  vivid  rather  than  correct  impressions  are  aimed  at  in 
excitation,  the  process  of  explanation  will  need  to  be  modi- 
fied so  far  as  to  secure  those  strong  and  lively  apprehensions 
which  are  necessary  to  deep  emotion. 

$  204.  Thirdly,  pathetic  explanation  requires  iudiihe 
more  prominent  and  striking  features  and  outlinoa  be 


,!*h    ' 


]44 


EXCnW  TliJX. 


presented ;  while  such  as  are  less  easily  apprehended, 
however  important  in  an  accurate  representation  to 
the  understanding  merely,  are  dropped  from  view. 

The  following  extract  from  Sheridan's  Invective  against 
Warren  Hastings  will  serve  to  exemplify  this  rule.  The 
orator,  instead  of  going  through  an  orderly  detail'  of  the 
sufferings  of  the  oppressed  nations  of  India,  merely  presents 
one  or  two  of  the  most  prominent  features  in  the  scene  of 
desolation  and  horror.  "  When  we  hear  the  description  of 
the  paroxysm,  fever  and  delirium  into  which  despair  had 
thrown  the  natives,  when  on  the  banks  of  the  polluted 
Ganges,  panting  for  death,  they  tore  more  widely  open  the 
lips  of  their  gaping  wounds,  to  accelerate  their  dissolution, 
and,  while  their  blood  was  issuing,  presented  their  ghastly 
eyes  to  heaven,  breathing  their  last  and  fervent  prayer,  that 
the  dry  earth  might  not  be  suffered  to  drink  their  blood,  but 
that  it  might  rise  up  to  the  throne  of  God,  and  rouse  the 
eternal  Providence  to  avenge  the  wrongs  of  their  country, 
will  it  be  said  that  this  was  brought  about  by  the  incanta- 
tions of  these  Begums  in  their  secluded  Zenana?" 

§  205.  Fourthly,  instead  of  the  clear  and  distinct 
exhibitions  which  are  proper  in  mere  addresses  to  the 
understanding,  it  is  often  conducive  to  passionate  im- 
pressiveness  to  leave  something  to  the  imagination  of 
the  hearers,  by  only  obscure  and  imperfect  delinea- 
tions. 

Anthony,  instead  of  at  once  telling  the  citizens  how 
much  Cresar  in  his  will  had  ordered  to  be  distributed  among 
the  people,  set  their  imaginations  all  on  fire  by  only  vague 
and  obscure  intimations  of  the  richness  of  the  legacy. 

The  aid  of  the  imagination  in  heightening  the  effect  of 
passionate  representation  is  likewise  employed  when,  instead 


il 


ehended 
tation  to 
dew. 

e  against 
ule.  The 
drof  the 
Y  presents 

scene  of 
ription  of 
spair  had 

polluted 

open  the 
issolution, 
ir  ghastly 
ayer_,  that 
blood,  but 
rouse  the 

country, 
5  incanta- 

distinct 
es  to  the 
mate  im- 
ation  of 

delinea- 

sens  how 
ed  among 
nly  vague 
jacy. 

!  effect  of 
in,  instead 


SYMPATHY. 


145 


I 


of  the  object  of  feeling  itself,  something  connected  ^ith  it 

as  causes,  effects,  results  and  the  like — is  presented,  and 

from  that  the  hearers  are  left  to  conjecture  the  real  character 
of  the  object.  It  should  be  observed  here,  that  there  is  com- 
bined with  this  appeal  to  the  imagination  to  aid  the  effect, 
a  figure  of  speech.  The  speaker  seems  to  shrink,  as  feeling 
himself  inadequate  to  the  task,  from  the  direct  exhibition  of 
the  object.  The  terrors  of  the  desolation  caused  by  the 
irruption  of  Hyder  Ali  could  hardly  be  more  vividly  repre- 
sented than  they  were  by  Burke  in  simply  pointing  to  a  single 
result.  "  When,"  he  says,  "  the  British  armies  traversed  as 
they  did,  the  Carnatic  for  hundreds  of  miles  in  all  directions, 
through  the  whole  line  of  their  march  they  did  not  see  on« 
man,  not  one  woman,  not  one  child,  not  one  four-footed 
beast  of  any  description  whatever." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OP  THE    EMPLOYMENT   OF     SYMPATHY    IN   EXCITA- 
TION. 

$  206.  It  is  indispensable  in  excitation  that  the 
speaker  himself  appear  to  be  affected  in  the  same  way 
in  which  he  wishes  his  audience  to  be  affected,  and, 
likewise,  to   a  degree,  at  least,  as  high. 

This  is  a  principle  every  where  recognized.  The  lines  of 
Horace  are  familiar  to  all: 

Ut  ridentibus  "arrident,  ita  flentibus  adflent 
Humaui  vultus.     Si  vis  me  flere,  dolendum  est 
Primum  ipsi  tibi. 
JSmotion  is  necessary  in  the  speaker  not  only  beoftuse  the 


Vi,m\ 


146 


EXCITATION. 


*»u 


I '  ) 


absence  of  it  would  render  all  efforts  to  excite  feeling  in  the 
audience  futile;  but  because,  from  the  law  of  sympathy, 
emotion  is  communicated  directly  from  one  bosom  to  another. 
Shaksjjeare  had  a  just  conception  of  human  nature  when  he 
put  tlie  following  words  into  the  lips  of  Anthony : 

Passion,  I  see,  is  catching;  for  mine  eyes. 
Seeing  those  beads  of  sorrow  stand  in  thine. 
Began  to  water. 

In  all  pathetic  discourse,  the  speaker  must  manifest  the 
suitable  kind  and  degree  of  feeling  in  all  the  possible  modes 
of  expressing  it;  in  the  form  of  the  tholight,  the  language, 
the    voice,  countenance,  and   gesture.     To  secure  this,  he 
must  feel  himself.     Hypocritical  expressions  of  feeling  will 
seldom  escape  detection.     The  human  breast  instinctively 
discerns  between  true  and  false  emotion.     Even    trained 
stage-actors,  when  they  succeed  perfectly  in  their  art,  are 
infected  themselves  by  the  passion,  the  contagion  of  which 
they  wish  to  extend  to  the  spectators.     For  the  time  they 
feel  as  if  they  were,  in  reality,  the  characters  they  personate. 
They  accomplish  this,  perhaps,  the  most  difficult  attainment 
of  their  art,  by  a  close  and  thorough  study  of  the  causes  of 
feeling  supposed  to  operate  in  the  scene  whicii  they  represent 
Mere  natural  sensibility,  although  not  indispensable,  is  not 
enough.      The   heart,    by    close    contemplation,   must    be 
brought  into  contact  with  the  object  of  feeling.    The  speaker 
and  the  writer  need  equally  to  kindle  the  fire  of  feeling  in 
themselves  by  long  and  close  contemplation  of  the  (ruth  to 
be  expressed  in  the  discourse. 

§  207.  The  modes  of  expressing  passion  in  discourse 
are  direct  or  indirect. 
In  the  direct  exhibition  of  feeling  the  speaker  al« 


aVMPATIIY. 


147 


lows  the  passion  to  appear  in  its  own  natural  form  and 
way. 

§  208.  In  the  indirect  expression  of  passion,  the 
speaker,  instead  of  giving  vent  to  his  emotions  in  the 
natural  ways  of  expression,  and  making  a  free  exhi- 
bition of  them,  veils  them  in  part  and  only  suffers  oc- 
casional glimpses  of  them  to  be  seen. 

In  this  indirect  expression  of  feeling,  the  power  of  imagin- 
ation is  called  in  aid,  see  $  205.  The  hearers  observe,  by 
the  gleams  through  the  disguise  here  and  there,  a  fire  of 
passion  in  glow;  but  obtaining  no  definite  determination  of 
the  extent  and  degree,  it  appears  to  them  the  more  deep  and 
strong;  as  the  outlines  of  objects  seen  in  the  mist,  being  in- 
determinate, the  imagination  easily  swells  them  into  mon- 
sters. Such  partial  eruptions  of  passion  are  common  in  real 
life,  and  often  impress  more  deeply  than  the  pure  and  unsup- 
pressed  overflow  of  feeling.  The  mourner  in  public,  observ- 
ing the  proprieties  of  conduct,  who  only  allows  a  broken  sob 
to  escape  her,  moves  the  heart  of  sympathy  more  deeply 
than  do  even  continued  and  unchecked  wailings  and  loud 
lamentations.  The  maniac  duelist,  who  would  break  sud- 
denly away  from  any  pursuit  he  was  engaged  in,  as  if  forced 
by  some  demon  of  passion,  and,  pacing  off  a  certain  dis- 
tance on  the  floor,  repeat  the  significant  words,  "  one,  two, 
three,  fire;  he's  dead  ;"  then,  wring  his  hands  and  turn 
abruptly  to  his  former  pursuits,  gave  a  more  touching  exhibi- 
tion of  the  deep  agony  which  was  ever  preying  on  his 
spirit,  than  if  he  had  vented  it  in  constant  bowlings  of  re- 
morse. It  is  with  that  admirable  insight  into  nature  and 
conformity  to  truth  which  has  before  been  noticed,  that 
Shakspeare  thus  makes  Anthony  give  but  occa  nal  signs 
of  grief  for  Ceesar's  death.     While  generally  the  passion  if 


148 


EXl  ITA  riON. 


suppressed,  now  and  then  it  seems  to  force  itself  out;  and 
this  very  circumstance,  that  it  seems  forced,  makes  it  appear 
stronger  and  deeper.  Thus  he  apologizes  for  any  escape 
of  sorrow,  and  tells  the  citizens  that  he  cannot  properly 
allow  the  true  and  adequate  expression  of  his  feelings. 

Bear  with  me; 

My  heart  is  in  the  coffin  there  with  Caesar; 

And  I  must  pause  till  it  come  back  to  me. 

0  masters !  if  I  were  disposed  to  stir 
Your  hearts  and  minds  to  mutiny  and  rage, 

1  should  do  Brutus  wrong,  and  Cassius  wrong. 
Who,  you  all  know,  are  honorable  men: 

I  will  not  do  them  wrong;  I  rather  choose 
To  wrong  the  dead,  to  wrong  myself  and  you. 
Than  I  will  wrong  such  honorable  men. 
This  partial  disguising  of  passion  on  the  part  of  the  speaker 
has  this  further  advantage,  that  the  determination  being  left 
to  the  imagination  of  the  hearer,  it  can  never  seem  to  the 
latter  disproportionate — either  too  weak  or  too  strong. 

$  209.  The  degree  of  feeling  expressed  by  the 
speaker  must  ever  be  moderated  in  reference  to  the 
supposed  feelings  of  the  hearer. 

Unless  there  may  appear  to  the  audience  a  probable  cause 
of  strong  feeling,  as  was  the  case  in  the  first  oration  of 
Cicero  against  Cataline,  the  speaker  should  commence  with 
only  a  moderate  degree  of  passion;  and  should  suffer  it  to 
increase  only  in  proportion  as  it  may  seem  natural  to  the 
audience.  He  must  of  course  ever  keep  in  advance  of  them  • 
but  must  take  care  never  to  get  beyond  the  reach  of  their 
sympathy.  The  effect  of  this  will  be  not  only  to  annihilate 
the  whole  power  of  sympathy;  but  also  to  occasion  dissatia- 
faction  and  disgust. 


>:?*4ilii 


INTRODUCTION    AND     PERORATION. 


149 


CHAPTER  V. 


OP  THE     INTRODUCTION     AND     PERORATION    IN    EX- 
CITATION. 

§  210.  Excitation  admits  both  kinds  of  Introduc- 
tion ;  the  Explanatory  and  the  Conciliatory. 

In  reference  to  the  management  of  the  Introduction  Ex- 
planatory see  §§  118,  176. 

The  Introduction  Conciliatory  will  require  in  pathetic 
discourse  peculiar  attention  and  care;  as  it  is  more  import- 
ant here  than  in  explanation  or  confirmation  to  secure  a  fa- 
vorable disposition  towards  the  speaker  on  the  part  of  the 
hearers.  Where,  especially,  either  the  speaker  is  himself  per- 
sonally repulsive  to  them,  or  his  subject  offensive,  or  the 
sentiment  which  he  would  awaken  incompatible  with  their 
present  feelings  and  views,  he  has  need  to  make  the  best 
use  of  his  power  and  skill. 

The  laws  which  govern  pathetic  discourse  generally  will 
come  in  also  to  regulate  and  modify  the  Introduction,  and 
especially  when  it  is  of  the  n.  3nciliatory  kind. 

$  211.  Excitation  admits  only  the  excitatory  or 
pathetic,  and  the  persuasive  forms  of  peroration,  with 
the  recapitulation. 

The  explanatory  and  confirmatory  forms  of  peroration  are 
inadmissible  here,  because  addresses  to  the  pure  intellect 
can  never  properly  come  after  an  address  to  the  feelings. 
Certainly,  to  close  a  discourse,  the  object  and  aim  of  which 
is  to  awaken  a  certain  kind  or  degree  of  feeling  with  cold 
intellectual  inferences  or  remarks  is  to  defeat  the  very  design 
of  the  discourse.  Even  the  form  of  recapitulation,  when 
introduced,  must   conform    to    the  peculiar   principles    of 

13* 


.  I 


IbO 


EXCITATION. 


pathetic  di.eo«™;  and  will  diner  somewh.  Irom  th.  ap. 
Lpriato  to  explanation  or  confir,„atu.„.  .he  am.  o.  the 
perLtion  hero  must  be  to  make  a  more  d.reo,  or  spec.fic 
application  of  the  subject  to  the  ieelinss  addressed;  or  to 
make  the  exciiement  of  feelings  effected  m  Ihe  d.sco»rse  a, 
it>  main  object  conducive  to  some  action  of  the  wilL 


PART  tV.— PERSUASION. 


CHAPTER  I. 

GENERAL    INTRODUCTOttY   VIEW. 

«  212   In  per>--jasion,  the  object  of  discourse  is  \o 
move  the  will;  either  by  leading  it  to  a  n""/'^;  ™ 
purpose,  or  by  dissuadiug  it  from  one  already  adopted. 
Persuaaive   di»co„r,e  is,  in  this,   clearly  and   definitely 
distiaguialied  from  the  species  already  considered.    Explana- 
0  '  ,Usoourse  respects  as  its  end  a  ne.  concept,.n,  Con- 
filatory,  a  ne>v  conviction;  Paretic,  a  ne  ^  feehng,  Per- 
e,  a  new  action  or  purpose.     This  cl.  .sifieatron,  ev.- 
ently.  covers  the  field.     If  there  are  any  other  speoes  of 
d«ourse,  fo..  >ded  on  the  immediate  object '»  ^e  accompl.sh- 
ed  i.  ,',e  miud  ad^'  essed,  it  must  be  a  subdivision  of  one 
„r  those  enumerated;  unless,  indeed,  mental  science  ro  ,eal 
l„  classes  of  phenomena  in  the  mind  of  -»-'-'"''""» 
i„  those  of  the  Intellect,  the  Sensibilities  and  the  Wdl. 

5  213.  As  the  mind  addressed  may  be  in  either  one 
of  three  different  stated-may  be  already  decided  .n 
purpose,  bnt  may  need  confirm.,  tion,  or  although  dm- 
ded^  in^y  be  dedded  in  the  oppo.  te  direction,  or  wtth- 
out  any  choice,  or  voluntary  preference  m  vc^rd  to 
the  subject;  the  siKcilic  objects  of  the  d'-"'"^;!;! 
varv  i«  dl'T.rcnt  c.e..  u„d  the  discourse  be  modified 


152 


PERSUASIOPt. 


\'U'  \ 


V    I 


Si, 


Persuasion,  thus,  differs  specifically  from  dissuasion,  ta 
well  as  from  encouragement  or  animation;  talthough  the 
general  means  to  be  employed  are  the  same  in  the  different 
cases.  The  difference  in  the  specific  process  will  consist 
mainly  in  the  arrangement  and  means  of  conciliating  and 
explaining. 

§  214.  The  specific  objects  of  persuasive  discourse 
admit  of  a  still  further  division  iu  reference  to  the  char- 
acter of  the  action  proposed ;  whether  an  individual 
act  or  a  controlling  purpose — a  determination  to  do  a 
particular  thing  or  the  adoption  of  a  principle  of  con- 
duct having  respect  to  a  series  of  acts  or  a  course  of 
life. 

Hence  will  arise  another  specific  diversity  in  the  conduct 
of  the  discourse.  When  a  permanent  state  of  will  is  aimed 
at,  it  is  evident,  those  considerations  are  to  have  the  pre- 
eminence which  will  remain  in  the  mind, — in  other  words, 
truths  addressed  to  the  understanding  or  reason.  Where, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  object  of  the  discourse  is  to  produce 
a  merely  temporary  effect,  as  that  of  a  general  exhorting  his 
soldiers  on  the  eve  of  a  battle,  those  motives  which  respect 
more  directly  the  feelings  as  the  immediate  incentives  to 
action,  will  have  the  preference. 

It  will  often  be  the  case  that  both  objects  will  be  com- 
bined; that  the  speaker  will  aim  to  bring  his  hearers  not 
only  to  adopt  a  general  course  of  conduct  or  pursuit,  but 
als(5  to  commit  themselves  to  it  at  the  moment  by  some  par- 
ticular act.  The  Temperance  reformers,  thus,  in  seeking  to 
induce  and  secure  a  permanent  reform,  press  the  inebriate 
to  an  immediate  committal  by  some  particular  act,  as  sign- 
ing a  pledge  or  the  like.  In  this  case,  the  principles  of  coa* 
iduct  will  need  to  be  unfolded  clearly  and  convincingly  ta 
the  understanding,  and,  also,  to  the  feelings. 


INTIlODUCTOllY    VIEW. 


103 


tston,  aa 
ugh  the 
ditTerent 
1  consist 
ting  and 


iscourse 
lie  char- 
dividual 
to  do  a 
of  con- 
>uise  of 

conduct 
is  aimed 

the  pre« 
jr  words, 

Where, 

produce 
)rting  his 
h  respect 
tttivesi  to 

be  com- 
arers  not 
suit,  but 
tome  par* 
eeking  to 
inebriate 
as  sign- 

»S  of  CODi* 

icingly  to 


«  215.  The  work  of  persuasion  is  cflTccted  by  the 

EXHIBITION    OP    THE    ACTION    OR    COURSE  tO  be  cho- 

sen,  and  the  presentation  op  motives  fitted  to 
incite  to  the  determination  proposed. 

The  work  of  persuasion,  thus,  admits  all  the  processes  be- 
fore described  of  explanation,  conviction,  and  excitation. 

The  act  to  be  done  will  often  need  to  be  explained.  The 
christian  preachi-  will  need,  thus,  in  order  to  make  his  ex- 
hortation effectual,  to  explain  the  nature  of  the  duty  proposed, 
as  faith,  repentance,  and  the  like.  The  statesman  will  like- 
wise  need  to  unfold  the  course  of  policy  he  desires  to  be 
adopted  to  the  clear  apprehension  of  his  hearers;  as  a  failure 
to  understand  what  is  to  be  done  must  so  far  be  an  insuper- 
able obstacle  to  decision.  The  process  of  explanation  will 
also  often  be  requisite  in  the  presentation  of  motives. 

It  may  be  necessary,  moreover,  to  convince  the  judgment 
in  persuasion.  The  action  proposed  must  be  shown  to  be 
practicable;  or  the  motives  presented  to  be  true  and  real 

and  pertinent. 

Excitation,  once  more,  is  often  requisite  in  persuasion,  aa 
the  passions  are  the  more  immediate  springs  of  action. 

All  these  processes,  however,  receive  a  slight  modification 
in  reference  to  the  ultimate  end  of  persuasion;  and  must  be 
introduced  only  in  entire  subserviency  to  that  end— the 
moving  of  the  will. 

§  216.  The  theme  in  persuasion  is  ever  a  concep- 
tion which  embraces  the  motive  or  motives  addressed 
to  the  activity  to  be  awakened. 

$  217.  The  more  general  unity  of  persuasive  dis- 
course consists  in  the  singleness  of  the  motive  or  class 
of  motives  addressed  to  the  various  activities  of  the 


J.| '.;.  Ml 


fe'iit 


154 


PERSUASION. 


hearer ;  the  narrower  unity,  m  the  singleness  of  the  ac- 
tion itself. 

According  as  the  motive  or  the  action  to  be  prompted  by 
rt  is  adopted  as  affording  the  principle  of  development  and 
arrangement,  tne  discourse  will  be  modified  specifically  in 
its  form  and  be  more  or  less  strictly  persuasive  in  its  char- 
acter. If  the  theme,  which  here  embraces  the  motives  pre- 
sented, furnish  the  principle  of  development,  the  discourse 
will  be  more  explanatory  in  its  character.  If  the  action  pro- 
posed be  made  the  germ  of  development,  the  discourse  will 
be  of  a  more  strictly  persuasive  nature. 


CHAPTER  II. 


OP   THE    THEME    IN    PERSUASION. 

§  218.  The  theme  in  persuasive  discourse  being  ever 
a  conception,  $  123,  must  always  appear  under  that 
form. 

As  the  discourse  will  vary  specifically  in  its  form  accord- 
ing as  the  motive  or  the  action' be  made  the  germ  of  devel- 
opment, it  becomes  important  that  the  speaker  settle  de- 
ijnitely  in  his  own  mind  before  hand  which  shall  preside 
over  the  arrangement  and  development,  and  govern  him- 
self by  the  decision  in  the  whole  conduct  of  the  discourse. 

§  219.  ^he  question,  whether  the  proposition  should 
be  stated,  is  to  be  determined  by  the  same  general 
principles  which  govern  in  the  other  species  of  dis- 
couise. 

The  general  rule  is  that  it  should  be  stated  unless 


PERSUASIVE    EXPLANATION. 


155 


positive  reasons  be  seen  to  exist  against  it.  If  the 
general  subject  of  the  discourse  be  supposed  lilcely  to 
give  offense,  the  definite  statement  of  both  the  subject 
and  the  action  may  be  deferred  to  the  end,  or  be  grad- 
ually unfolded  in  the  progress  of  the  discourse,  as  the 
minds  of  the  hearers  may  be  prepared  for  it. 

If  the  subject  be  not  offensive  but  the  action  pro- 
posed be  likely  to  be  repugnant  to  the  feelings  of  the 
hearers,  the  subject  may  be  stated  and  the  action  upon 
it  proposed  be  for  a  while  concealed  from  view. 

A  variation  from  the  usual  method  of  proceeding  in 
this  case,  may  be  justified  sometimes,  moreover,  for  the 
sake  of  variety,  or  on  other  similar  grounds. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  detail  at  any  further  length  the  diverse 
applications  of  these  general  principles  according  as  the  mo- 
tive or  the  action  itself  is  made  the  principle  of  development 
in  the  discourse. 


CHAPTER  III. 

OF    PERSUASIVE    EXPLANATION,  CONFIRMATION  AND 

EXCITATION. 

§  220.  In  Persuasive  discourse,  the  various  processes 
of  explanation  may  be  requisite  either  to  set  forth  the 
proper  subject  of  the  discourse  or  the  action  proposed 
to  be  effected  by  it,  §  215. 

§  221.  In  the  explanation  of  the  subject,  the  appli- 
cation of  the  principles  of  explanation  proper,  must 
be  modified  so  far  as  may  be  necessary  in  older  to  ex* 


156 


PERSUASION. 


H^ 


hihit  it  merely  as  a  ground  or  reason,  or  motive  of  ac- 
tion. 

Hence  the  subject  will  not  necessarily  be  surveyed  in  its 
whole  extent.  Only  those  aspects  will  be  taken  of  it  which 
bear  directly  on  the  action  proposed ;  and  of  these,  while  at 
the  same  time  false  impressions  in  regard  to  the  state  of  the 
case  are  to  be  guarded  against,  only  such  should  be  present- 
ed as  are  favorable  to  the  speaker's  object.  Great  art  and 
practiced  judgment  are  often  requisite  here. 

Exemplifications  of  these  methods  of  modifying  the  princi- 
ples of  explanation  proper,  are  furnished  in  the  orations  of 
Demostiienes  against  Philip.     The  orator  in  them  with  great 
skill  seizes  hold  of  those  particulars  in  the  relations  of  the 
Athenians  to  the  Macedonian  power,  and  in  the  condition  of 
Athens,  which  were  fitted  to  inspire  the  Athenians  with  con- 
fidence in  tlieir  own  strength,  and  with  contempt  and  resent- 
i»ent  towards  Philip,  tlxat  he  might  thus  incite  them  to  a 
vigorous  and  etficient  maintenance  of  hostilities.     The  ex- 
planations that  are  given,  whether  narrations  of  events  or 
descriptions  of  places,  of  resources,  &c.,  are  all  made  froio 
this  out  point  of  view ;  and  are  colored  throughout  by  th> 
one  persuasive  character.     Nothing  is  said  that  does  nc^ 
bear  directly  on  this  single  end;   nothing  is  omitted  tha^ 
could  promote  it.     The  processes  of  explanation,  it  is  how 
ever  pertinent  to  observe  here,  are  all  very  different  fron 
what  w^ould  be  proper  in  a  purely  explanatory  discourse 
rery  different,  for  example,  from  what  are  found  in  t\u 
bistories  of  those  times. 

It  should  be  remarked,  in  this  connection,  that  it  will  fre 
quently  be  necessary  to  construct  the  explanation  in  persua 
give  discourse  in  reference  both  to  the  Biotives  »nd  the  uo 
ti«n;  as  possibly  the  nature  of  the  action  may  best  be  Uft» 
4eistood  from  a  clear  view  of  the  motives* 


ii|i'£. 


PERSUASIVE    EXPLANATION. 


157 


§  222.    The  explanation  of  the  pavticulav  action 
urged  in  the  discourse  will  conform  more  closely  to 
the  general  principles  of  explanation.     Since,  gene 
ally  it  will  be  needful  to  give  a  clear  idea  of  the  na- 
ture of  the  ac  on  proposed. 

$  223.  Confirmation  entei-s  into  persuasive  discourse 
whenever  it  is  necessary  to  prove  any  allegation  in 
reference  to  the  theme  ,  the  practicability  of  the  action 
proposed,  or  the  connection  between  the  motives  and 
the  action.  Like  explanation,  in  persuasive  discourse, 
confirmation  suffers  important  modifications. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  point  out  in  particular  detail   the 
modifications^  which  confirmation  proper  receives  in  persua- 
It  is  sufficient  to  remark  generally  that  the  whole 


sion. 


work  of  confirmation  here  is  regulated  by  a  strict  regard  to 
the  great  object  of  the  discourse,  which  is  to  move  the  will. 
Fine  exeniplifications  of  persuasive  confirmation  may  be 
found  in  many  of  the  political  orations  of  Demosthenes;  the 
speeches  of  Lord  Chatham,  Burke,  Sheridan  and  Patrick 
Henry. 

§  224.  Excitation  is  necessary  in  persuasive  dis- 
course so  far  as  the  excitement  of  the  feelings  is  relied 
upon  for  influencing  the  will.  Like  explanation  and 
confirmation,  however,  it  is  modified  ui  important  fea- 
tures in  respect  to  the  particular  end  of  persuasion. 
Only  such  feelings  are  to  be  awakened,  and  those  to 
such  degrees  only,  as  are  fitted  to  lead  to  the  action 
desired. 

It  is  important  to  be  borne  in  mind  in  persuasive  excita- 
tion,  that  the  same  object  may  awaken  two  or  more  difTerent 
kinds  of  feelings,  some  of  wiiich  niay  be  favorable  to  the 

14 


ie  .igsn 


!™ 


i»"^g) 


\^ 


158 


PCRoUA.UON. 


end  proposed,  and  others  adverse.     Thus  the  increase  of  the 
Macedonian  power,  the  multiplicitv  of  its  conquests  and  alli- 
ances, were  fitted  to  excite  the  fear  as  well  as  the  resentment 
of  the  Athenians.     It  was  necessary,  therefore,  that  the  ora- 
tor, whose  design  was  to  arouse  the  Athenians  to  a  bold  and 
vigorous  prosecution  of  the  war  against  Philip,  should  give 
only  such  a  view  of  Philip's  successes  as  would  excite  indig- 
nation and  not  desponding  alarm.     The  orator  is  careful 
accordingly,  to  attribute  all  these  successes  to  fortune  and 
to  the  supineness  of  the  Athenians,  artfully  keeping  back 
those  causes  of  his  prosperity  which  might  awaken  terror 
and  thereby  dispose  the  Athenians  to  an  inglorious  peace. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OP   MOTIVES. 

$  225.  By  a  motive  is  meant  whatever  occasions  or 
induces  free  action  in  man. 

In  strictness,  motives  are  conditions  on  which  the  free 
self-activity  is  called  forth  in  some  one  or  other  of  its  various 
specific  forms. 

§  226.  Motives  may  be  distributed  into  several 
classes  in  reference  to  the  department  of  mind  in  wliich 
they  respectively  have  their  seat. 

There  are  thus,  First,  Those  seated  in  the  intellect, 
mere  conceptions  or  convictions ; 

Secondly,  Those  which  are  seated  in  ths  suscepti- 
bilities of  the  mind ; 
Thirdly,  Tho^e  whicn  arise  from  voluntary  states. 


MOTIVES. 


159 


of  the 
id  alli- 
atment 
he  ora- 
)ld  and 
Id  give 
!  indig* 
sareful 
ae  and 
s:  back 
I  terror 
eace. 


jions  or 

the  freo 
s  various 

several 
II  wliich 

ntellect, 

mscepti- 
states. 


$  227.  Actions  are  often  inducec'  by  mere  views  of 
truth.  Here  are  to  be  found  convictions  of  duty,  of 
interest,  of  fitness  and  congruity,  and  tlie  like. 

The  work  of  persuasion  thus  often  consists  merely  in  pro^ 
ducing  these  states  in  the  understanding  or  practical  reason. 

§  228.  The  seer  nd  class  of  motives  includes  those 
which  lie  in  the  senses,  as  appetites  and  pleasures  of 
sense  generally ;  the  affections  or  sentiments,  whether 
personal  or  social,  as  joy,  grief,  love,  hatred,  disgust, 
and  the  like  ;  and  the  emotions  proper,  or  those  states 
of  soul  which  are  awakened  by  views  of  what  is  true, 
beautiful,  right  and  good. 

To  this  class  belongs,  also,  that  common  and  prin- 
cipal motive  which  lies  in  sympathy 

$  229.  The  third  class  consists  of  permanent  generic 
states  of  the  will. 

The  nature  of  this  class  of  motives  as  distinguished  from 
the  others,  may  be  thus  illustrated.  If  a  miser  in  passing 
should  observe  a  person  in  extreme  suffering,  and  at  the 
sight  should  thrust  his  hand  into  his  pocket  and  hand  out  a 
shilling,  we  should  not  hesitate  to  ascribe  the  act  to  the 
natural  affection  of  pity  or  compassion  as  the  motive  cause. 
If,  again,  in  passinjT  np,  he  should  observe  a  customer  whose 
patronage  it  wouH  ht  ior  his  interest  to  secure,  and  should 
tender  him  an  invitation  to  dinner,  we  should  attribute  this 
act  to  his  purpose  of  accumulating  money  as  the  motive 
cause.  His  governing  purpose  to  acquire  wealth  rules  him 
in  this  step;  and  while  the  former  act  of  charity  possesses 
necessarily  no  moral  character, — proves  him  neither  a  good 
nor  a  bad  man,  but  merely  a  man — the  latter  act  is  an  indi- 
cation oi  rhar^cter  inasmuch  as  it  shows  a  governing  pui- 
pose. 


mH 


160  PERSUASION. 

The  last  class  of  motives  are  the  only  ones  which  can  be  de- 
nomiaated  morally  right  or  wrong.  The  others  have  no  such 
moral  character,  and,  consequently,  impart  none  to  the  act 
which  they  prompt. 

The  motives  of  this  class  include  all  those  which  are  em- 
braced under  the  general  term,  consistency,  so  far  as  it  ap- 
plies to  action.     We  appeal  to  a  man  to  adopt  a   certain 
course  or  perform  a  certain  act  on  the  ground  of  consistency, 
when  we  urge  it  Ciiher  because  it  is  necessarily  involved  in 
a  more  generic  purpose  or  course  already  adopted  by  him, 
as  when  we  urge  him  to  vote  for  a   measure   necessary  to 
carry  out  the  principles  he  has  maintained,  or  because  to 
decline    it  would    be    incompatible    with    another    specific 
course  or  policy  he  is  already  pursuing.     In  the  former  case, 
the  motive  is  obviously  one  of  the  class  under  consideration. 
In  the  latter  case,  it  is  really,  if  not  so  apparently,  of  this 
class:  since  there  is  an  implication  of   a  principle  in  the 
course  adopted  which  is  common  to  it  and  the  action  urged; 
otherwise,  there  would  be  no  inconsistency  between  the  two. 
§  230.  It  is  to  be  remarked  respecting  these  different 
classes  of  motives,  that  while  the  first  may  influence 
the  will  independently  of  the  others,  the  second  and 
third  classes  always  presuppose  the  first ;  since  there 
can  be  no  feeling  or  state  except  upon  some  truUi  per- 
ceived.   Moreover,  a  voluntary  motive  may  inf.lv«W  9 
feeling  and  also  a  perception  or  judgment. 


ACTS    OF    PE  HSU  AS  ION. 


161 


mn  be  de> 
re  no  such 
to  the  act 

;h  are  eni- 
r  as  it  ap- 
a  certain 
nsistency, 
ivolved  in 
d  by  him, 
xessary  to 
)ecause  to 
;r  specific 
irmer  case, 
sideration. 
ly,  of  this 
pie  in  the 
ion  urged; 
;n  the  two. 

3  different 
influence 
cond  and 
ince  there 
trutli  per- 


CHAPTER  V. 

OP   SPECIFIC    ACTS    OP   PERSUASION. 

§  231.  While  the  term,  persuasion,  is  applied  in  its 
more  general  import  to  all  those  kinds  of  discourse  the 
obiect  of  which  is  to  move  the  will,  in  its  narrower 
sense  it  is  distinj^uishcd  from  both  dissuasion  and  m- 
citement. 

As  thus  distinguished,  persuasion,  in  its  more  re- 
stricted sense,  will  regard  the  production  of  a  new  pur- 
pose or  act. ; 

Dissuasion,  the  removal  of  a  purpose  or  act  already 
determined  upon ; 

Incitement,  confimiation  of  a  purpose  or  course 
already  adopted. 

§  232.  Although  these  several  acts  of  persuasion  are 
effected  by  the  general  processes  K-.entioned,  cf  exhibi- 
tion of  the  act  or  course  to  be  adopted  and  the  presen- 
tation of  suitable  motives,  yet  these  processes  will  be 
considerably  modified  in  reference  to  thes.  several  more 
specific  ends. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OP  arrangement  in  persuasion. 
$  233.  The  principles  of  arrangement  in  persuasion 
will  vaiy  according  as  the  motives  or  the  action  pro- 
posetl  is  made  the  leading  principle  in  the  development 

of  the  discourse.  $  217. 

14* 


ill 


162 


PERSUASION. 


■  ^^';  ..ri 


'  v'l 


»^  "'V  II 

,  *     '  l'. 


It  is  obvious  that  a  speaker  in  persuasion  may  make  the 
action  to  which  he  wishes  to  incite  his  hearers  the  proper 
germ  of  development  in  liis  discourse,  which  he  may  exhibit 
either  in  its  various  parts  or  its  relations.  In  tliis  case, 
the  arrangement  will  be  for  the  most  part  conformed  to  the 
principles  of  explanatory  arrangement.  The  action  will  be 
exhibited  in  its  parts,  and  the  motives  applied  to  each  in 
succession. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  may  be  better  in  some  cases,  and 
perhaps  generally,  to  make  the  motives  the  principle  of  de- 
velopment and  arrangement.  When  this  is  done,  the  rules 
stated  in  tlio  following  sections  are  to  guide. 

$  234.  Tn  the  presentation  of  motives  in  persuasive 
discourse,  three  things,  are  to  be  regarded : 

First,  the  specific  object  of  the  discourse,  whether 
persuasion  in  its  strict  sense,  dissuasion,  or  incitement ; 
Secondly,  the  comparative  strength  of  the  motives 
estimated  in  reference  to  the  mind  addressed ; 

Thirdly,  the  relation  of  the  motives  to  one  another. 
§  235.  If  the  specific  object  of  the  discourse  be  per- 
suasion proper,  it  is  evident  that  those  motives  which 
lie  in  perceptions  and  convictions  of  the  intellect  should 
precede ;  and  when  the  understanding  is  properly  en- 
lightened and  convinced,  the  way  will  be  open  for  the 
addresses  to  the  feelings.  In  case  the  action  proposed 
is  embraced  within  the  general  course  or  purpose 
already  adopted  by  the  mind  addressed,  it  will  often 
at  the  outset  be  sufficient  to  prove  this.  If,  however, 
it  be  an  act  repulsive  in  itself,  although  conducive  to  a 
chosen  end,  it  will  be  advisable  to  animate  that 
general  purpose  in  reference  to  this  specific  application 


INTRODUCTION    AND    FKUOllATION. 


163 


of  it  at  the  close,  in  order  to  give  it  eflTicicncy  in  the 
direction  desired. 

In  persuasion  proper,  moreover,  tlie  stronger  motives 
sliould  be  presented  lirst. 

$  236.  On  similar  grounds,  the  same  rules  of  ar- 
rano-ement  are  to  be  observed  in  dissuasion  as  in  per- 
suasion proper. 

In  this  case,  more  caution  is  necessary,  as,  instead  of  in- 
difference merely,  direct  opposition  is  to  be  encountered. 

§  237.  In  Incitement,  tlie  weaker  motives  should 
generally  be  presented  first,  and  the  discourse  be  closed 
with  such  as  are  fitted  to  incite  to  the  highest  degree 
of  determination. 

§  238.  The  principle  which  respects  the  relation  of 
the  motives  to  one  another  is  to  be  observed  for  the 
most  part  only  in  subordination  to  the  other  two. 

In  as  much  as  every  thing  unnatural  is  adverse  to  the 
highest  end  of  persuasion,  motives  that  are  closely  connected 
\v\t\\  each  other  should  not  be.  disconnected,  even  when  the 
second  principle  named,  that  which  respects  the  strength  of 
the  motive,  may  in  itself  require  it.  Much  less  should  ar- 
guments that  are  presupposed  in  others  be  postponed,  even 
although  the  other  principles  may  demand  it. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

OF   THE    INTRODUCTION    AND    PERORATION    IN    PER- 
SUASION. 

$  239.  Both  kinds  of  Introduction,  the  Preparatory 
and  the  Conciliatory,  in  their  several  varieties,  are  ad- 
missible  in  Persuasive  Discourse. 


mB 


164 


PKIIHUASION. 


I.    I 


The  same  cautions  and  suggestions  are  needful  here  as 
were  presented  in  the  corresponding  chapter  on  Exci  ation. 
Part  III.  chap.  v. 

$  2 10.  Only  the  Persuasive  Peror;*  ion  with  the 
Recapitulation  is  admissible  in  this  kind  of  discourse. 

Persuasive  Discourse  should  ever  leave  the  mind  addressed 
ready  for  the  action  proposed  and  urged  in  it.  Where  the 
body  of  the  discourse  has  consisted  of  the  exhibition  of  the 
motives,  and,  for  any  reason,  the  particular  iction  has  been 
suppressed,  it  will  of  course  be  necessary  to  state  the 
action  at  the  close.  This,  for  a  single  example,  was  done 
by  Demosthenes  in  his  oration  generally  denominated  the 
Third  Philippic.  In  the  main  discussion,  he  unfolds  fhe 
considerations  which  should  influence  the  Athenians— the 
existing  state  of  affairs;  and  at  the  close  briefly  suggests 
what  he  thinks  ought  to  be  done. 

If  the  action  has  constituted  the  body  of  the  discusnion, 
the  peroration  will  generally  consist  of  a  strong  and  vivid 
exhibition  of  -he  motives. 

If  the  action  has  been  stated,  but  the  motives  that  ur{.e  it 
have  filled  up  the  body  of  the  discourse,  the  peroration  v«uy 
be  by  direct  appeal  or  address,  or  more  close  applicaticr    of 

the  motives. 

Recapitulation  is  admissible  in  either  Cft«e. 


SECOND   GE 


OP   THE 


^H  '^B 

'h-i 

.SSb.      , 

^^^H  ^^^H 

4       .    . 

^^H-^^H 

^vjH 

MiWTi 

^^^HHa^^H 

Wrz '        ' 

^^H  '':^^B 

pi 

1 
1' 

SECOND   GENERAL    DIVISION. 


STYLE. 


GENERA^    VIEW. 

CHAPTER  1. 

OP    THE    NATURE    OP    STYLE. 

$  241.  Style  is  that  part  of  Rhetoric  which  treats  of 
the  expression  of  thought  in  language. 

No  process  of  art  is  complete  until  its  product  appear  ia 
a  sensible  form,  §  8;  and  language  is  the  form  in  which 
the  art  of  discourse  embodies  itself,  as  sound  furnishes  the 
body  of  music  and  color  that  of  the  art  of  painting.  Style 
is,  therefore,  a  necessary  part  of  the  art  of  rhetoric.  "In?eii- 
tio  sine  elocutione  noa  est  oratio."  It  is  not,  however,  all 
of  the  art,  just  as  the  laws  of  sound  do  not  cover  the  entire 
province  of  music,  or  the  principles  of  coloring  exhaust  the 
art  of  the  painter. 

While  it  presupposes  Invention  as  a  distinct  branch  of 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-S) 


1.0 


I.I 


■-  ilM 


IM 

12.2 

1.8 


L25  IIIU   III  1.6 


V] 


<? 


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IGO  STYLE. 

the  art,  it  is  yet  involved  even  in  that;  £*s  the  exercises  of 
invention  cannot  proceed  without  the  use  of  Umguage.  The 
two  branches  of  the  art  of  Rhetoric,  accordingly,  while  they 
rnay  easily  be  conceived  of  as  distinct,  und  in  practice  pre- 
dominant attention  may  be  given  to  either  at  will,  are  nev- 
ertheless bound  together  by  an  essential  bond  of  life. 

This  second  division  of  Rhetoric  has  been  variously  de- 
nominated; and  the  terms  employed  to  designate  it  have  been 
used,  sometimes  in  a  wider,  sometimes  in  a  more  restricted 
sense.     The  term  ''elocution"  was  formerly  more  commonly 
used  by  English  writers.     It  was  suggested  by  the  use  of 
the  Roman  rhetoricians,  and  w;     sanctioned  and  supported 
by  its  etymology.     It  has,  however,  in  later  times  become 
more  commonly  appropriated  to  denote  oral  delivery.   The 
term  "" style,'"  although  not  strictly  a  technical  word,  was 
used  by  Latin  writers  as  synonymous  with  "elocution,"  and 
has  been,  both  among  English  and  continental  writers,  more 
generally  of  late  applied  to  this  use.     It  has  been  employed, 
however,  with  more  or  less  latitude  of  meaning.     But  the 
prevailing  use  of  the  best  writers  authorises  the  appropria- 
tion of  the  term  to  denote  the  entire  art  of  verbal  expression. 
Cicero  and  others  of  the  ancient  rhetoricians  made  here, 
also,  two  divisions;  the  one  of  elocution  or  style  proper,  or 
the  choice  of  words  in  the  expression  of  thought;  the  other 
of  the  arrangement  of  words,  or  composition.     As  in  inven- 
tion, however,  so  perhaps  still  more  obviously  in  style,  there 
appears  to  be  no   good  reason  for  making    this   division. 
See  §  43. 

$  242.  The  analysis  of  style,  for  the  purpose  of  sys- 
tematic'study,  must  respect  the  various  classes  of  pro- 
perties which  by  necessity  or  possibility  belong  to  it. 
We  cannot  consider  style,  as  we  have  considered  invetv 


n 


NATURE    OF   STYLE. 


167 


tion,  in  reference  to  the  different  processes  concerned  in  its 
production.  For  some  of  the  properties  cf  style,  or  modes 
of  expression  are  common  and  necessary  in  all  kindt>  of  dis- 
course and  every  expression  of  thought,  ivhile  others  are 
determined  by  the  nature  of  the  thought  itself.  If  we  except 
the  application  of  some  of  the  rules  of  mere  grammar,  the 
only  proper  method  of  pursuing  the  culture  of  style,  must 
be  by  the  study  of  the  varieties  of  forms  which  thought  may 
assume  when  expressed  in  language,  in  order  that  whatever 
may  secure  beauty  and  force  to  the  expression  may  be  in- 
telligently communicated  to  it,  and  whatever  may  mar  or 
weaken  the  expression  may  be  avoided. 

Practice,  therefore,  in  this  branch  of  the  art,  is  to  be  con- 
ducted only  in  reference  to  the  known  properties  of  style 
generally,  and  not  by  exercises  on  the  specific  properties. 
It  would  be  ridiculous  to  undertake  a  course  of  exercises  w  ith 
the  single  view  of  acquiring  command  of  a  class  of  figures; 
or  of  avoiding  a  barbariam  or  a  solecism. 

At  the  same  time,  it  may  be  a  very  useful  exercise  to 
detect  the  faults  in  ill-constructed  sentences  or  compositions 
designedly  prepared  or  selected  for  this  purpose.  Such  ex- 
ercises in  grammar  are  common  and  beneficial.  In  regard 
to  some  properties  of  style,  however,  as  especially  those  of 
naturalness,  dignity,  and  the  like,  Mhile  the  fault  may 
easily  be  detected,  the  correction  will  be  difficult.  For  in 
good  style  the  thoughts  of  the  individual  appear  in  the  dis- 
course, tinctured  by  all  his  peculiarities  and  habits;  and  the 
critic  who  would  correct  or  improve  must  throw  himself 
into  the  speaker's  train  of  thoughts  and  associations  and 
feelings. 


Ill '11 


m 


.  «l ' 


kti!^ 


i       I 


.J 


^r 


8TYLE. 

CHAPTER  II. 

OP   THE    GENERAL    PROPERTIES  OP  STYLE. 

$  243.  The  first  generic  distinction  of  the  properties 
of  style  is  into  the  Absolute  and  the  Relative. 

§  244.  The  Absolute  properties  of  style  are 
founded  in  the  nature  and  laws  of  language  itself. 

The  Relative  properties  are  those  which  are  de- 
termined by  the  state  of  the  spe^^  i  er's  mind  or  by  that 
of  the  mind  addressed. 

There  are  these  three  things  which  come  in  to  determine 
the  character  of  the  expression;  the  thought  to  be  expressed; 
the  object  tor  which  it  is  expressed;  and  the  medium  of  ex- 
pression. 

The  last  of  these,  language,  has  laws  and  properties  of 
its  own  which  are  fixed  and  invariable,  and,  as  such,  inde- 
pendent of  the  individual  speaker  who  uses  it.  The  proper- 
ties thus  determined  to  style  may  be  denominated  the  abso» 
lute  properties  of  style.  They  correspond  for  the  most  part 
to  what  Dr.  Campbell  calls  "  the  essential  properties  of  elo- 
cution." 

Again,  language,  as  the  body  of  thought,  is  affected  by 
the  state  of  the  speaker's  mind.  It  is  not  merely  the  ex- 
pression of  thought,  but  of  his  thought.  It  partakes  of  his 
individuality,  and  is,  as  it  were,  an  expression  of  his  life. 
We  recognize,  thus,  at  once,  as  a  beauty  in  style,  natural- 
ness in  expression.  The  class  of  properties  thus  determined 
to  style,  may  be  denominated  the  relative  subjective,  or, 
more  briefly,  the  subjective  properties. 

Farther,  the  speaker  in  pure  discourse,  speaks  to  effect 
an  (bject  in  the  miud  of  another.  He  must  necessarily, 
therefore,  have  respect  to  that  mind;  and  modify  his  style 


GF.NEHAL    PROPERTIES. 


169 


accordingly.  The  mere  embodying  in  language  of  his  own 
thoughts  will  not  of  course  accomplish  his  object  in  the  mind 
addressed.  It  may  be  necessary  to  labor  more  at  perspicuity 
in  the  expression  than  would  be  requisite  for  the  mere  utter- 
ance of  thought.  He  may  be  under  the  necessity  of  consulting 
force,  or  energy  in  the  exp  ssion,  or  of  adorning  it.  Hence 
we  have  another  distinct  class  of  properties.  They  may  b(» 
denominated  the  relative-objective,  or  more  briefly,  the  ob' 
jective  properties.  The  last  class  corresponds  nearly  with 
Dr.  Campbell's  "  discriminating  properties  of  elocution." 
It  is  the  only  class  which  Dr.  Whately  takes  into  view  in 
his  treatise  on  style. 


10 


iraPHfr 


PART    I.-ABSOLUTE    IROPERTIES. 


CHAPTER  I. 

GENERAL  VIEW  OP  LANGUAGE  AND  ITS  PROPERTIES. 

§  245.  Language  may  be  defined  to  be  the  ver- 
bal   BODY   OP    THOUGHT. 

Language  is  not,  as  sometimes  represented  in  loose  ex- 
pression, the  mere  dress  of  tliought.  It  has  a  vital  conneo 
tiou  with  thought;  and  is  tar  more  truly  and  appropriately 
conceived  of  as  the  living,  organic  body  erf  thought,  inter- 
penetrated throughout  with  the  vitality  of  the  thought,  as 
the  natural  body  with  the  life  of  the  spirit,  having  living 
connections  between  its  parts,  giving  it  unity  and  making 
it  a  whole,  than  as  a  mere  dress  having  no  relation  to 
thought  and  no  organic  dependence  in  its  parts.* 

»  Tlio  production  of  speech  proceeds  by  an  internal  necessity  out 
of  the  organic  life  of  man ;  for  man  spealvs  because  he  thinks; 
and  with  the  production  of  thought  is  given  at  the  same  t.i.ie 
the  production  of  speech.  It  is  a  general  law  of  living  nature 
Ihate.ch  activity  in  it  c.n.es  forth  into  appearance  in  a  material, 
each  spiritual  in  a  bodily;  and  in  the  bodily  appearance  have  their 
lunitation  and  form.  In  accordance  with  this  law,  the  thoucht 
nec^.sar.ly  come,  forth  also  in  the  appearance,  and  becomes  em- 
bodied in  Speech.-C.  F.  Becker's  Organism  of  Speech,  pp.  1,2. 

The  origin  of  speech,  says  Solger  to  the  same  effect,  is  one  with 
the  origin  of  thought,  which  is  not  po^ible  in  reality  without  spt^ch. 


GKNKllAL    Vl'r.W    OF    LAxNGUAQE. 


in 


The  embodying  of  thought  into  language,  must  necessarily 
be  affected  by  three  difierent  things: 

First,  the  matericd  of  the  body  which  it  takes.  Vocal 
language  difters,  in  many  respects,  from  a  language  of  signs. 
A  language,  even,  formed  more  directly  under  the  influence 
of  the  ear,  as 'for  instance  the  ancient  Greek,  possesses  pe- 
culiar features  which  distinguish  it  clearly  from  a  language 
formed  more  or  less  under  the  influence  of  the  pen.  Some  of 
the  characteristics  of  the  English  language  may  be  traced  to 
the  fact  that  the  language  was  developed  and  formed  by 
writers  as  well  as  by  speakers;  by  those  who  were  influenced 
more  by  the  form  of  the  word  as  presented  to  the  eye  than  by 
its  en\'ct  on  the  ear  as  a  sound.  And  generally  the  nature  of 
the  material  out  of  which  the  body  is  formed  must  evidently 
affect  the  process  of  embodying.  The  marble  gives  a  difl'er- 
ent  form  to  the  embodiment  of  the  same  sentiment  or  char- 
acter from  that  given  by  color  as  in  painting,  or  by  sound 
and  language  as  in  poetry  and  music. 

Secondly,  the  character  of  the  thought  to  be  e?nbodied. 
The  thought  must  never  lose  its  distinctive  character  and 
life.  On  the  other  hand,  as  the  human  spirit  in  its  fleshly 
body,  and  the  life  of  a  plant  in  its  vegetable  structure,  it 
enters  its  material,  disposes  it,  shapes  it,  animates  it,  and 
altogether  determines  its  outward  form  and  character. 
Thought,  in  other  words,  is  the  organizing  element.  It,  con- 
sequently, Avhen  the  process  of  embodying  is  perfect,  mani- 
fests itself  in  every  part.  This  is  true,  more  emphatically, 
of  each  particular  thought  expressed  by  the  individual 
speaker  in  the  form  of  oral  language.     That  thought,  as  a 

Thought  is  subjective  speech,  as  speech  is  objoctive  thought — the 
outward  appearance  of  thought  itself.  Neitlier  is  possible  without 
the  other;  and  both  reciprocally  condition  each  other. — AesthetieSf 
p.  2oS. 


172 


ABSOI.UTK     PIIUPKIITIKS. 


li   f ' 


life-criving  aiul  disposlug  element,  enters  the  body  of  s.mnds 
which  is  lurnished  to  the  individual  speaker  in  the  language 
that  he  uses,  and  imposes  its  own  character  upon  it.  But  lan- 
euaoe  generallv,  or  the  hxed  language  of  a  people  is  organ- 
Tzed^so  to  speak.  Its  properties  are  determined  by  the  char- 
acter of  the  thought  that  has,  in  being  expressed,  given  it 
existence.  Hence  the  languages  of  dilTercnt  nations  are  dif- 
ferent,  because  the  thought  that  has  characterised  the  nation 
at  the  formation  of  the  language,  has  been  different. 

Thirdly,  the  natural  relationship  between  thought  and 
articnlcde  sound.  Certain  sounds  are  the  natural  expres- 
sion of  certain  sensations;  other  sounds  bear  a  more  or  less 
direct  analogy  to  certain  other  states  of  mind. 

Farther  than  this,  in  the  original  construction  of  language, 
outward  sensible  events  or  objects  are  taken   to  represent 
mental  states.     For  the  most  part,  indeed,  language  is  thus 
symbolical  in  its  very  nature  ;-it  represents  thought  through 
some  external  object  or  event  either  naturally  or  by  accident 
associated  with  it.     And  although,  in  the  progress  of  scien- 
tific  culture,  it  becomes  more  and  more  abstract,— that  is, 
words  having  no  obvious  connection  with  the  thoughts  are 
used  to  represent  them  more  and  more  arbitrarily,  just  as 
numerical  or  algebraical  signs  represent  numbers  or  mathe- 
matical relations,  still  language  never  loses  entirely  its  ori- 
ginal symbolical  character.     It  will  ever  be  regarded,  ac- 
cordinglv,  as  a  great  excellence  of  style  that  the  thought  is 
represented   bv  means  of   pictures    or  images    of   sensible 
scenes  or  events.     The  sound,  then,  points  to  the  external 
object  or  event,  or  some  sensible  property  or  characteristic 
of  it-  and  this,  again,  to  the  mental  state  or  thought  which 
it  is  taken  to  represent.     So  far,  now,  as  this  object  or  event 
is  fitted  in  \U  own  nature  to  suggest  the  thought,  the  ind,- 


GENERAL    VIEW    OP    LANGUAGE. 


173 


cation  of  the  thought  is  more  easy;  the  language  is  more 
perfectly  adapted  to  its  end. 

This  two-fold  relationship  between  thought  and  the  means 
of  representing  it,  viz:  between  the  thought  and  the  sijund 
on  the  one  hand,  and  between  the  thought  and  the  sensible 
object  indicated  by  t\ie  sound  on  the  other,  we  should  ex- 
pect beforehand,  would  determine  to  some  extent  the  con- 
struction of  language;  and  in  point  of  fact  we  find  it  does 
so  control  it  to  such  a  degree  as  to  give  rise  to  a  class  of  pro- 
parties  which  are  considered  necessary  or  highly  auxiliary 
to  the  great  ends  of  language. 

This  general  view  of  the  nature  of  language  furnishes  the 
ground  for  the  classification  of  the  properties  of  language 
or  the  absolute  properties  of  style. 

$  246.  The  absolute  proprirties  of  style  may  be  dis- 
tributed into  three  classes,  as  they  respect  more  directly 
the  nature  of  the  material  of  language  or  articulate 
sounds ;  the  relation  of  that  material  to  the  content 
of  language  or  the  relr.tion  of  articulate  sounds  to 
thought;  or  the  laws  of  thought  itself. 

These  several  classes  may  be  denominated  the 
ORAL,  the  SUGGESTIVE  and  the  grammatical  pro- 
perties of  style. 

Language,  as  the  verbal  body  of  thought,  consists  of  arti- 
culate sounds.  These  form  the  material  of  which  it  is 
made.  It  is  obvious,  hence,  that  a  proper  regard  to  the 
essential  nature  of  articulate  sounds  is  essential  in  the  for- 
mation of  style. 

Again,  it  is  plain  that  articulate  sounds  are  not  taken  at 
random  for  use  in  speech.  All  are  not  equally  adapted  for 
this  use;  and  the  selection  is  not  a  matter  of  pure  accident 
or  caprice.     On  the  other  hand,  through  the  closer  affinity 

13* 


wbich  some  souuds  have,  either  directly  oi  through  the  ob- 
ject tliey  are  taken  to  represent,  to  certaia  thoughts,  or 
thruu"-li  the  more  intimate  association  which  experience  has 
creatod  between  them  and  such  thoughts,  the  selection  is 
found,  on  a  nice  inspection  of  language  as  it  is,  to  have 
been  made  on  certain  natural  and  easily  detined  principles. 
These  principles,  derived  either  from  the  iiherent  relation- 
ship of  ihe  sound  to  the  thought,  or  of  the  object  taken  to 
represent  the  thought  to  the  thought  itself,  thus  come  in  to 
give  shape  and  form  to  language. 

Once  more,  thought  itself  has  its  own  \avts.  It  has  its 
own  relations  which  must  ever  be  observed  in  the  construc- 
tion of  lano-uao-e  and  ever  be  correctly  represented  in  it. 
So  far  as  these  laws  and  relations  belong  to  thought  as 
thought,  the>  furnish  the  foundation  for  the  science  of  wnz- 
verscd  grammar  or  grammar  in  the  abstract.  So  iar  as  the 
thought  to  be  expressed  is  modified  by  the  condition  and 
c-rcumstances  of  the  people  that  frame  a  language,  these 
accidental  relations  and  forms  of  thought  furnish  the  Inunda- 
tion for  a  grammar  of  a  particular  language,  or,  as  it  may  be 
called  to  distinguish  it  from  abstract  grammar,  historical 
or  inductive  grammar. 

We  have  thus  the  definitions  that  are  contained  in  the 
following  sections. 

§  247.  The  Oral  properties  of  style  are  those 
which  are  determined  from  the  nature  of  language  as 
consisting  of  articulate  sounds. 

§  248.  The  Suggestive  properties  of  style  are 
those  whicU  are  determined  from  the  relations  of  ar- 
ticulate sounds,  or  of  the  symbols  of  thought  to  the 
thought  to  be  represented  by  them. 

Dr.  Whately  has  applied  the  term  "  suggestive"  to  that 


ORAL    PROPERTIES, 


175 


lo-h  the  ob- 
louglits,  or 
erieuce  has 
selection  is 
is,  to  have 
principles, 
nt  relation- 
ct  taken  to 
come  in  to 

It  has  its 

le  construc- 
nted   in  it. 

thought  as 
;nce  of  uni- 
30  i'ar  as  the 
ndition  and 
;uage,  these 

the  founda- 
is  it  mav  be 
r,  historical 

ined  in  the 

e  are  those 
mguage  as 

of  style  are 
tions  of  ar- 
mght  to  the 

ive"  to  that 


kind  of  style  which  "  without  making  a  distinct,  though 
brief,  mention  of  a  multitude  of  particulars,  shall  put  the 
hearer's  miud  into  the  same  train  of  thought  as  the  speaker's, 
and  sucrgest  to  him  more  than  is  actually  expressed."  Of 
course,  what  are  here  called  Mhe  suggestive  properties 'of 
style  are  to  be  widely  distinguished  from  Dr.  Whately's 
'suggestive  style.' 

§  249.  The  Grammatical  properties  of  style 
are  those  which  are  determined  by  the  necessary  or 
accidental  forms  and  relations  of  the  thought  to  be  ex- 


These  properties  are  comprehensively  embraced   by  Dr. 
Campbell  under  the  head  of  ''grammatical  purity  " 


CHAPTER  II. 

OP    THE    ORAL    PROPERTIES    OP    STYLE. 

§  250.  The  oral  properties  of  style  mclude  those  of 
Euphony  and  Harmony. 

The  ultimate  distinction  between  euphony  and  harmony 
as  properties  of  language  consists  in  this;— that  euphony  re- 
gpects  the  sound  or  the  phonetic  side  of  language  exclusively, 
while  harmony  regards  the  sound  only  in  relation  to  the 
thought  or  to  the  logical  side.  Euphony  has  respect  to  the 
sounds  of  words  as  they  affect  the  ear  and  are  regarded 
merely  as  sounds  and  independently  of  any  signification 
they  may  have.  In  harmony,  sounds  are  regarded  in  rela- 
tion to  the  thought  which  they  express.  Hence  the  effect  of 
juphony  is  a  mere  sensation  on  the  outward  ear;  while  that 


176 


ADSOLUTK    FROl'EirilliS. 


L!       HI 

'i 

!  , 


1-^ 


\:iu 


of  harmony  is  an  emotion  and  springs  directly  from  an  intej. 

lectual  perception. 

Another   distinction,  growing   out   of  the   one    already 
named,  is  this;-that  euphony  respects  chiefly  single  words, 
while  harmony  respects  only  a  succession  ot    words.     In 
some  cases,  indeed,  euphony  is  violated  in  the  combin.uon 
of  words,  when  the  effect  of  the  enunciation  is  disagreeable 
merely  because  of  the  succession  of  particular  sounds.    Thus 
the  sentence,  "The  hosts  stood  still/'  is  in  violation  rather 
of  euphony  than  of  harmony:— the  offensiveness  to  the  ear 
arising  out  of  the  difficulty  of   enunciating   the  elemental 
sounds   here  brought  into   proximity.     The  expression  of 
thoucrht,  on  the  other  hand,  being  ever  continuous,  harmony 
appears  only  in  a  succession  of  words.     The  sentence,  "  He 
behaved  himself  exceedingly  discreetly,"  is  faulty  in  har- 
mony,  not  in  euphony;  for  while  it  is  offensive  to  the  ear, 
it  is  not  as  mere  sounds.     The  enunciation  of  the  sentence 
is  easy  and    the  sounds  themselves   rather   pleasant   than 
otherwise.     But  in  the  communication  of  thought,  we  de- 
mand variety  and  distinctness  in  the  expression  of  all  its 
various  relations.     In  this  sentence,  the  similarity  of  sound 
in  the  last  two  words  indicates  a  similarity  of  relation;  and 
we  are  disappointed  and  so  far  offended  in  not  finding  the 
sense  answering  to  the  sound  in  this  respect. 

Hence  it  may  sometimes  happen  that  euphony  must  be 
sacrificed  in  order  to  the  most  perfect  harmony.  As  in 
music  the  fullest  harmonious  effect  of  a  whole  strain  re- 
quires sometimes  the  introduction  of  discords,  so  in  speech, 
the  most  perfect  expression  of  the  sentiment  may  demand 
the  selection  of  words  that  in  comparison  with  others  are 
more  harsh  and  difficult  of  utterance. 

Practically,  whether  the  fault  in  a  sentence  offensive  to 
Ihe  ear  be  one  against  euphony  or  one  against  "harmony 


ORAL    PUOPHIITIKS. 


177 


may  be  determined  by  the  circurnstatice  that  a  sentence  de* 
licient  iu  euphony  is  always  difficult  of  enunciation;  an  in^ 
harmoniois  sentence  is  not  necessarily  difficult  of  utterance. 
It  should  be  observed,  moreover,  that  euphony  is  some- 
times a  constituent  of  harmony. 

$  251.  The  oral  T^iopcrtics  of  style,,  being  founded 
on  the  nature  of  language  as  consisting  of  sounds, 
strictly  belong  only  to  spokcii  discourse.  Yet  as  in 
the  silent  perusal  of  written  discourse  the  mind  trans- 
lates the  characters  into  the  sounds  which  they  repre- 
sent, even  such  discourse  must  be  pronounced  defective 
unless  these  properties  appear  in  it. 

As  the  practiced  musician  instantly  detects  any  defect  in 
the  harmony  while  his  eye  runs  silently  over  the  pa<5es  of 
written  music,  so  even  in  silent  reading-  we  are  unpleasantly 
affected  by  any  violation  of  the  oral  properties  of  style.  Lan- 
guage never  entirely  conceals  this  peculiarity  of  its  natt^re  as 
made  up  of  sounds,  or  as  oral,  even  when  it  appears  in  the 
form  of  a  visible  symbol  addressed  to  the  eye  alone. 

§  252..  The  oral  properties  of  style  can  be  best 
acquired  only  under  the  influence  of  the  ear  while 
listening  to  the  audible  pronunciation  of  discourse. 

It  is  difficult  to  comprehend  how  a  deaf-mute  can  ever  be 
sensible  of  the  euphony  or  harmony  of  discourse;  although 
experience  shows  that  even  he  may  wr  noetry,  which, 
more  than  any  other  form  of  discourse  as  involving  at  least 
rhythm  and  rhyme,  seems  to  require  the  superintendence 
and  guidance  of  the  ear.  It  is  safe,  notwithstanding,  to  as- 
sume that  the  writer  who  neglects  to  cultivate  the  ear  in 
reference  to  the  construction  of  his  sentences,  must  be  liable 
to  fail  in  these  properties  of  style.     The  importance  of  them. 


1     "I  ^  r  L 

..111.,    .     I  .  !  .! 


Ir'Sivi'^'i 


#..%t 


178 


ABSOLUTE  PPOPERTIES. 


even  to  written  discourse,  may  b^  seen  in  tlie  fact  that  the 
writings  of  Addison  owe  no  small  part  of  their  attractiveness 
to  the  musical  structure  of  his  style.  The  public  speaker 
tspecially  needs  to  subject  himself  to  much  traioing  of  the 
ear,  in  order  to  give  it  such  a  control  over  his  style  of  ex- 
pression that  his  sentences  without  conscious  design,  shall, 
as  it  were,  form  themselves  in  accordance  with  the  princi- 
ples of  euphony  and  harmony. 

Next  to  the  study  of  discourse  as  pronounced  by  living 
orators,  may  be  recommended  recitation  from  the  best  poets 
and  orators.  Every  student  of  oratory  should  devote  a  por- 
tion of  time  daily  to  this  exercise  or  to  that  of  reading 
aloud  composition  excelling  in  musical  properties.  The 
speeches  of  eminent  orators  generally  possess  these  excel- 
lencies in  a  higher  degree  than  other  classes  of  prose  composi- 
tion. The  various  writings  of  Burke,  of  Milton  and  Addi- 
son furnish,  however,  excellent  studies  for  the  acquisition  of 
these  properties.  The  Greek  and  Latin  languages,  also, 
havino-  been  formed,  in  a  pre-eminent  degree,  under  the  in- 
fluence of  the  ear  inasmuch  as  poetry  and  oratory  were  the 
earlier  forms  in  which  they  developed  themselves,  may  be 
profitably  studied  for  this  purpose. 

As  studies  of  this  kind  respect  immediately  the  culture  of 
the  ear  alone,  it  should  ever  be  remembered  that  they  can 
be  prosecuted  to  best  advantage  only  by  audible  pronun- 
ciation. 


EUPHONY. 


179 


CHAPTER  III. 

DP   EUPHONY. 

$  253.  EuPHONif  in  style  respects  the  character  of 
the  sounds  of  words  regarded  merely  as  sounds,  and 
requires  that  they  be  such  as  will  affect  the  ear  in  oral 
pronunciation  agreeably.   §  250. 

The  sounds  of  words  vary  only  in  four  different  ways, 
viz:  in  respect  to  pitch,  force,  time,  and  quality.  But  it  is 
obvious  euphony  has  nothing  to  do  with  variations  of  pitch, 
any  .^urther  at  least  than  this;  that  it  requires  the  successions 
of  pitch  to  be  not  monotonously  uniform.  This  part  of  the 
field,  however,  is  so  entirely  included  within  the  province 
of  hlrmony  that  it  may  here  with  propriety  be  wholly  pass- 
ed over. 

Neither  has  euphony  any  thing  to  do  with  the  time  of 
sounds,  or  quantity,  except  so  far  as  quantity  is  a  constitu- 
ent of  accent 

The  only  points  to  be  considered  here,  therefore,  are  force 
as  it  appears  in  accent,  and  quality  of  sound. 

§  254.  Euphony  requires  the  avoidance  of  such 
words  and  expressions  as  are  difficult  of  utterance  on 
account  of  the  succession  of  unaccented  syllables. 

There  are  many  words  in  our  language  which  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  enounce  on  account  of  the  number  of  unaccented  syl- 
lables  occurring  in  immediate  succession,  as  for  instance, 
meteorological,  desultoriness,  imprecatory.  Such  words, 
80  far  as  practicable,  should  be  avoided  in  all  elevated  dis- 
course.    They  are,  for  the  most  part,  of  Greek  or   Latin 

origin. 

Not  only  words  but  phrases  having  a  number  of  unaccent- 


'is 


180 


ABSOLUTE    PROPERTIES. 


I'  i' 


|%ji 


it!!'i! 


ed  syllables  may  be  objecfionable  on  this  account.  The 
phrase^  "  The  obstinacy  of  his  undutiful  son/'  contains  six 
unaccented  syllables  in  succession,  and  cannot  well  be  pro- 
nounced without  interposing  a  pause  where  the  sense  forbids. 
The  following  sentence  from  Tillotson  is  liable  to  the  same 
censure: 

"  When  a  man  hath  once  forfeited  the  reputation  of  his 
integrity,  nothing  will  then  serve  his  turn.*' 

In  reading  it  the  voice  labors,  and  seeks  to  relieve  itself 
by  pausing  slightly  after  ''  forfeited,''  and  also  after  **■  repa- 
tation."     The  pause  supplies  the  accent  that  is  missed. 

§  255.  Euphony  requires,  in  the  second  place,  that 
those  words  and  phrases  be  avoided  which  are  harsh 
and  disagieeable  in  respect  of  quahty  of  sound. 

The  words  of  a  language  are  faulty  in  euphony  in  respect 
of  quality  only  by  reason  of  derivation  or  composition.  Eu- 
phony presides  over  the  formation  and  development  of  lan- 
guage, and  watchfully  guards  against  the  introduction  of 
offensive  combinations  either  in  roots  or  general  forms  of  de- 
rivation and  inflection.  The  radical  words  of  all  languages 
are  hence  euphonious.  But  it  will  sometimes  happen  that 
the  general  laws  of  derivation  md  composition  will  bring 
together  vocal  elements  which,  taken  together,  are  harsh  and 
diflficult  to  utter.  So,  likewise,  foreign  words,  containing 
elements  not  belonging  to  the  indigenous  tongue,  may  be 
diflScult  to  pronounce,  and,  therefore,  to  a  native  ear  be 
wanting  in  euphony. 

Farther,  individual  habits  or  physical  defects  may  render 
certain  combinations  difficult  which  are  not  so  to  others  of 
the  Stime  country . 

While  occasionally  such  offenses  against  euphony  may 


HARMON  V    PROPER. 


181 


be  suffered  for  the  sake  of  force  or  clearness,  the  excessive 
repetition  of  them  gives  to  style  a  forbidding  character. 
The  following  sentences  are  exceptionable  in  this  respect: 

Thou  formM'st  me  poor  at  first  and  keep'st  me  so. 

The  hosts  stood  still  in  silent  wonder  tixM. 

After  the  most  straitest  sect  of   our    religion  I  lived   a 
Pharisee. 

As  far  as  respects  the  affairs  of  this  world. 

For  the  peace  and  good  of  the  church  is  not  terminated  in 
the  schismJess  estate  of  one  or  two  kingdoms. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OP   HARMONY HARMONY    PROPER. 

$  256.  Harmony  in  style  respects  the  character 
of  the  sounds  of  words  as  expressions  of  thought ;  and 
requires  that  they  be  such  as,  in  the  audible  pronun- 
ciation of  discourse,  will  awaken  agreeable  emotions. 
$250. 

Harmony,  as  a  property  of  style,  lies  between  euphony, 
which  regards  sounds  as  sounds  merely,  on  the  one  side, 
and  the  suggestive  properties  of  style,  w^hich  regard  the 
image  presented  to  the  mind  by  the  word,  on  the  other,  as 
in  a  painting  we  readily  discriminate  between  the  pleasing 
nature  of  the  colors  as  they  affect  the  eye  of  a  child,  and 
such  a  disposition  of  them  as  will  express  real  objects;  and 
again  between  this  and  the  representation  of  character,  which 
is  fully  appreciated    only  by  a   matured    taste;    or  as,  in 

16 


m- 


182 


ABSOLUTE    PROPERTIES. 


m 


I 


::i 


music,  we  distinguish  between  the  sounds  that  a  child  elicits 
as  he  runs  his  fingers  at  random  over  the  keys  of  a  piano- 
forte and  those  which  a   master    produces  while,  without 
designing  to  express  a  particular  sentiment,  he  yot  instinct- 
lively    obeys  the  lixed  principles  of  melody  and  harmony, 
and  again  between  these  and  the  sounds  which   he  elicits 
when  intently  bent  on  the  expression  of  a  sentiment,  so  we 
may  distinguish  between  euphony  and  harmony,  and  again 
between    harmony    and  those    properties  which   are   more 
directly  founded  on  the  thought  to  be  expressed.     We  have 
in  these  several  processes  of  art,  first,  the  mere    outward 
matci-ial,— the  color  or  the  sound;  secondly,  the  body  as  the 
organized  expression  of  an  internal  and  spiritual  principle, 
but  regarded   still  as  body  addressed    to  the   senses;  and, 
thirdly,  the  sentiment  or  thought  revealed  in  the  body.     The 
fuller  development  of  these  diflerent  classes  of  properties  will 
indicate  not  only  the  fundamental  grounds  of  distinction 
between  them,  but  also  the  practical  utility  of  discrimina- 
ting between  them  in  the  study  of  style. 

§  257.  Harmony,  in  the  wider  sense,  includes  Har- 
mony  proper^  Rythm^  and  Melody. 

This  subdivision  of  harmony  is  founded  on  the  distinc- 
tion of  vocal  utterances  into  those  belonging  to  the  four  dif- 
ferent functions  of  voice,  viz:  pitch,  force,  time,  and  quality 
of  voice.  Pitch  is  the  constituent  of  melody ;  force  and 
lime  give  accent— the  c(.  istituent  of  rhythm;  and  quality 
of  voice  lies  at  the  foundation  of  harmony  proper. 

$  258.  Harmony  Proper  is  founded  on  the  quality 
of  sounds,  and  requires  that  the  succession  of  words  in 
a  sentence,  in  union  with  the  thought  which  is  ex- 
pressed, fall  smoothly  and  gratefully  on  the  ear. 
The  quarity  of  sounds  can  be  regarded  in  style  only  fio  far 


iiiit«Ml 


HARMONY    PROPER.  IQS 

as  the  elemental  sounds,  of  which  words  are  comoosed 


comj 

le 


are 


concerned.  In  this  respect, — the  character  of  the  elemental 
sounds  which  enter  into  their  structure,  dilFerent  languages 
differ  greatly,  as  well  as  the  styles  of  different  writers  in 
the  same  language.  While  the  Italian  language,  thus,  has 
in  its  alphabet  fewer  vowels  than  the  English,  yet  the  vowel 
sounds  have  a  great  relative  predominance  in  the  actual 
structure  of  the  language  as  compared  with  the  English. 
There  are  in  English  discourse  but  about  three-fourths  as 
many  vowels  as  in  Italian;  that  is,  while  in  an  Em^lish 
sentence  of  eight  hundred  letters  there  are  not  i'ar  from  three 
hundred  vowels,  in  an  Italian  sentence  of  as  many  letters 
there  are  nearly  four  hundred.  The  Italian  language,  in 
harmonious  effect,  differs  from  the  English  in  this  particular: 
that  a^.  composed  of  a  larger  portion  of  vowels,  it  is  more 
open,  smooth  and  flowing;  while  the  English  has  the  pecu- 
liar strength  and  expressiveness  v/hich  a  highly  consonantal 
character  imparts. 

There  is,  moreover,  a  wide  difference  in  the  character  of 
different  consonants.  Some  have  vocality,  others  are  mere 
aspirations.  In  some  languages,  also,  the  same  consonant 
has  less,  in  others  more,  of  a  proper  consonantal  character. 
The  lower  Germans  are  more  open  in  their  pronunciation, 
-•that  is,  compress  with  less  force  the  articulating  organs 
in  forming  consonants,  than  the  English. 

If  it  be  borne  in  mind,  now,  that  harmony  never  loses 
sight  of  the  character  of  the  thought  to  be  expressed,  it  will 
at  once  be  perceived  that  in  respect  to  certain  kinds  of 
thought  the  peculiar  alphabetic  structure  of  our  language 
will  bo  more  favorable  to  harmony,  while  in  respect  to 
others,  it  will  be  less  so.  The  following  lines  from  Cole- 
ridge's "  Hymn  before  Sunrise  in  the  vale  of  Chamouni,'* 


184 


ABSOLUTE     PllOPEilTlES. 


r  I 


I  I 


strike  the  ear  pleasantly  and  excite  the  emotion  of  harmony 
And  you,  ye  five  wild  torrents,  fiercely  glad! 
Who  called  you  forth  from  night  and  utter  death. 
From  dark  and  icy  cavorns  called  you  torth, 
Bowa  those  precipitous,  black,  jagged  rocks. 
Forever  shattered,  and  the  same  forevei ! 
The  sounds,  however,  particularly  in  the  last  two  verses, 
are   far  diflerent  in    quality  from   those  in  the  following 
which  are  equally  harmonious: 

«God'"  sincr,  ye  meadow  streams,  with  gladsome  voice! 
Ye  pine  gropes,  with  your  soft  and  soul-like  sounds. 
0^-  a  still  different  character  are  the  following  remark- 
ably harmonious  lines  from  Gray's    Elegy    in   a   country 
Church-yard: 

The  breezy  call  of  incense-breathing  morn. 
The  swallow  twittering  from  the  straw-built  shed. 
The  cock's  shrill  clarion  or  the  echoing  horn 
No  more  shall  rouse  them  from  their  lowly  bed. 
The    English   language  is   peculiarly  favorable    to   that 
species    of   harmony    which    may    appear   in    union    with 
strenc^th  and  energy:  the  Italian  to  that  which  is  combined 
with°calm    elevation  and  dignity  as  well    as  grace   and 

elegance.  r    .  i    • 

Thfc  following  are  illustrations  of  this  property  of  style  m 

prose  discourse: 

Truth,  indeed,  came  once  into  the  world  with  her  divine 
master  and  was  a  perfect  shape,  most  glorious  to  look  on 
but  when  he  ascended,  and  his  apostles  after  him  were  laid 
asleerthen  straight  arose  a  wicked  race  ot  deceivers,  who, 
a  that  story  goes  of  the  Egyptian  Typhon  with  his  con- 
:;irators  how  fhey  dealt  witlUhe  good  Osiris,  took  he  virgin 
Truth,  hewed  he?  lovely  form  into  ^  thousand  pieces,  and 
scatte  ed  them  to  the  four  winds  l^rom  that  time  eve 
since,  the  sad  frie.d.of  Truth,  such  a.  durst  appear  imta- 
ting    he  careful  search  that  Isis  made  tor  the  mangled  body 


HARMONY    PROPER. 


185 


of  harmony 

id! 
death. 


t  two  verses, 
he  following 

idsome  voice! 
;  sounds. 

,ving  remark- 
n   a   country 


t  shed, 

u 

bed. 

rable  to  that 
I  union  with 
h  is  combined 
as  grace   and 

;rty  of  style  in 

ath  her  divine 
us  to  look  on, 
him  were  laid 
leceivers,  who, 
vyith  his  con- 
took  the  virgin 
,nd  pieces,  and 
that  time  ever 
'I  appear,  imita- 
mangled  body 


of  Osiris,  went  up  and  down  gathering  up  limb  by  limb 
still  as  they  could  find  them.  We  have  not  yet  found  them 
all,  nor  ever  shall  do,  till  her  master^s  second  coming:  he 
shall  bring  together  every  joint  and  member,  and  shall 
mould  them  into  an  immortal  feature  of  loveliness  and  per- 
fection.— Milton. 

But  so  have  I  seen  a  harmless  dove  made  dark  with  an 
artillcial  ligiit,  and  her  eyes  sealed  and  locked  up  with  a 
little  quill,  soaring  upward  and  flying  with  amazement,  fear, 
and  an  uadiscerni:ig  wing:  she  made  towards  heaven,  but 
knew  not  that  she  was  nuide  a  train  and  an  instrument,  to 
teach  her  enemy  to  prevail  on  her  and  all  her  defenceless 
kindred.  So  is  a  superstitious  man;  zealous  and  blind, 
forward  and  mistaken,  he  runs  towards  heaven,  as  he  thinks, 
but  he  chooses  foolish  paths;  and  out  of  fear  takes  any 
thing  that  he  is  told. — Jeremy  Taylor. 

§  259.  Harmony  proper  may  be  violated  either  by 
rough  and  harsh  combinations  of  sounds  in  words ; 
or  by  an  imperfect  adaptation  of  the  sounds  to  the 
particular  character  of  the  thought. 

Language,  as  the  body  of  thought,  should  ever  evince  the 
presence  of  the  organising  principle  generally,  by  assuming 
a  form  pleasing  to  the  sense.  There  is  beauty  in  a  clear 
complexion,  smooth  skin,  and  nicely  rounded  features,  as  the 
proper  expression  of  a  sound  mental  condition. 

There  is  a  beauty,  too,  entirely  distinct  from  this,  in  the 
flashing  eye  of  excited  hope,  the  crimson  flush  of  offended 
modesty,  the  languor  and  paleness  of  pining  grief,  as  the 
expressions  of  the  inward  spirit.  If  they  have  a  beauty  in 
themselves,  it  is  entirely  lost  in  the  greater  and  more  absorb- 
ing beauty  which  they  possess  as  mental  expressions.  So 
there  is  a  harmony  in  the  adaptation  of  language,  as  con 
sisting  of  diverse  sounds,  to  the  particular  thought  to  be  ex- 
pressed;   to  be  distinguished    from  mere    euphony,  or  the 

beauty  of  the  sounds  regarded  as  mere  sounds,  on  the  one 

16* 


J 'I 

I? 


l1«it 


I' ll'  < 


fe  .ii 


I ' 


'fl 

■nil 

» 

m  ^ 

^D 

^H^^tf^K' 

Mh 

■Ha! 

^^H 

HHH| 

I9H 

^^^^B 

!iiHB 

IH^ 

186 


ABSOLUTI-:    PROPERTIES. 


hand,  and  from  the  general  beauty  which  a  perfect  expre* 
sion  of  thought  in  language  imparts,  on  the  other. 

The  style  of  Barrow  with  all  its  excellencies  is  often  faulty 
in  respect  to  harmony.  The  following  extracts  are  deficient 
in  general  smoothness.  We  feel  in  reading  them  that  the 
expression  dues  not  flow  in  easy  utterance  of  the  thought. 

When  sarcastical  twitches  are  needful  to  pierce  the  thick 
skins  of  men,  to  conceal  their  lethargic  stupidity,  to  rouse 
them  out  of  their  drowsy  negligence,  then  may  they  well  be 
applied:  when  plain  declarations  will  not  enlighten  people 
to  discern  the  truth  and  weight  of  things,  and  blunt  argu- 
ments will  not  penetrate  to  convince  them  or  persuade  them 
to  their  duty;  then  doth  reason  freely  resign  its  place  to  wit, 
allowing  It  to  undertake  its  work  of  instruction  and  reproof. 

Their  eminency  of  state,  their  aflluence  of  wealth,  thejr 
uncontrollable  power,  their  exemption  from  common  re- 
straints, their  continual  distractions  and  encumbrances  by 
varieties  of  care  and  business,  their  multitude  of  obsequious 
followers,  and  scarcity  of  faithful  friends  to  advise  or  reprove 
them,  their  having  no  obstacles  before  them  to  check  their 
wills,  to  cross  their  humors,  to  curb  their  lusts  and  passions, 
are  so  many  snares  unto  them:  wherefore  they  do  need 
plentiful  measures  of  grace,  and  mighty  assistances  m 
God,  to  preserve  them  from  the  worst  errors  and  sins;  into 
which  otherwise  it  is  almost  a  miracle  if  they  are  not 
plunged. 

Archbishop  Tillotson's  style  is  also  exceedingly  defective 
in  respect  to  harmony.     The  following  is  an  extract: 

One  might  be  apt  to  think  at  first  view,  that  this  parable 
was  overdone,  and  wanted  something  of  a  due  decorum ;  it 
being  hardly  credible,  that  a  man,  after  he  had  been  so  mer- 
cifully dealt  withal,  as,  upon  his  humble  request,  to  have  so 
huge  a  debt  so  freely  forgi^-en,  should,  whilst  the  memory 
of  so  much  mercy  was  fr.  upon  him,  even  in  the  very 
next  moipent,  handle  his  fellow-servant,  who  had  made  the 
same  humble  request  to  him  which  he  had  done  to  his  lord, 
with  so  much  roughness  and  cruelty,  for  so  inconsiderable 
a  sum. 


RHYTHM. 


187 


'feet  exprea* 
ler. 

1  often  faulty 

are  deficient 

lein  that  the 

le  thought. 

rce  the  thick 
ity,  to  rouse 
they  well  be 
^hten  people 
blunt  argu- 
jrsuade  them 
place  to  wit, 
and  reproof, 
wealth,  thejr 
common  re- 
mbrances  by 
if  obsequious 
ise  or  reprove 
)  check  their 
md  passions, 
ley  do  need 
istances  m 
nd  sins;  into 
they  are  not 

igly  defective 
tract: 

;  this  parable 

decorum;  it 

been  so  mer- 

st,  to  have  so 

the  memory 

in   the  very 

jad  made  the 

le  to  his  lord, 

nconsiderable 


CHAPTER  V. 

HARMONY — RHYTHM. 

$  260.  Rhythm  in  style  is  foutided  on  accent ;  and 
requires  that  the  succession  of  accented  and  unaccent- 
ed syllables  be  such  as  will  produce  an  agreeable  ef- 
fect on  the  ear  in  the  pronunciation  of  the  discourse. 

Among  the  ancients  rhythm  was  regarded  as  the  promi- 
nent thing  in  harmony  of  style;  and  much  attention  was 
criven  to  it  in  the  study  of  oratory.  The  structure  of  the 
Greek  and  Latin  languages  admitted,  to  a  much  greater  de- 
gree than  our  own,  tne  application  of  the  principles  of 
rhythm  to  the  formation  of  style.  Yet  in  the  English 
lani'uaoe  rhvthm  plays  an  important  part;  and  in  no  point 
are  the  writings- f  dilferent  men  more  easily  distinguishable 
from  one  another  than  in  respect  to  rhythm,  nor  is  there 
scarcely  any  other  property  more  missed  in  oratory,  when 
wanting. 

Tlie  ancient  rhetoricians  endeavored  earnestly  to  ascertain 
and  settle  tlie  laws  of  rliythm;  that  is,  determine  iu  what 
particular  successions  of  accent,  or  in  what  feet  oratorical 
rhythm  consists.  The  endeavor  seems  to  have  been  fruitless; 
as  the  results  of  their  investigations  were  widely  variant. 
Indeed,  from  .the  very  nature  of  oratory  as  distinguished 
from  poetry,  and  yet  proceeding  from  a  mind  formed  ia 
feeling  and  taste  as  well  as  in  intelligence,  aside  from  the 
nature  of  harmony  as  representing  the  form  of  expression 
yet  as  not  independent  of  the  thought  expressed,  we  might 
have  anticipated  a  failure  in  such  an  elfLrt.  The  rugged 
oak,  with  its  heavy,  abrupt  and  open  arms  and  its  scanty 
spray  and  foliage  has  a  harmony,  so  to  speak,  of  its  own; 
and  there  is,  too,  a  harmony  peculiar  to  the  willow  with  ita 


188 


ABSOLUTE    i'llOPERTII^IS. 


i 


ih  I 


t%M 


long  and  slender  branches  and  pendent  foliage.  The  divers* 
character  of  the  thought  gives  a  diverse  character  to  the 
rhythm.  Strength  and  vehemence  delights  in  the  frequent 
concurrence  of  heavy  accents;  tenderness  and  familiarity 
avoid  them.  Yet  the  oak  is  not  all  heavy,  jagged  bougha; 
nor  the  willow  all  twig  and  leaf.  There  are  extremes  in 
both  directions;  and  against  these  the  following  rules  are 
given  as  the  only  ones  which  the  nature  of  the  case  allows. 
It  should  be  ever  borne  in  mind  that  while  there  is  such 
a  thing  as  rhythm,  it  is  ever  determined  by  the  character  of 
the  thought;  else  rhythm  would  be  mere  euphony.  The 
rhythm  of  Djmostheaes  would  not  be  rhythm  in  Cicero. 

$  261.  Rhythm  forbids  the  excessive  recurrence  both 
of  accented  and  also  unaccented  syllables. 

This  rule  is  founded  in  the  very  nature  of  rhythm  which 
is  constituted  of  an  intermixture  of  accented  and  unaccented 
syllables.  A  style  that  otfends  against  this  rule  must  be 
pronounced  to  be  so  far  wanting  in  rhythm.  The  writings 
of  Tillotson,  generally  characterized  for  want  of  harmony, 
furnish  abundant  exemplifications  of  this  fault  in  style.  It 
will  be  remarked  in  the  following  extracts  from  this,  in  , 
many  respects,  excellent  writer,  that  the  ear  demands  a 
heavy  accent  on  the  italicised  words  so  much  that  such  an 
accent  is  thrown  on  a  word  which  should  not  regularly  re- 
ceive it.  In  this  we  find  a  proof  that  harmony  ever  re- 
spects the  thought,  and  not  the  sound  merely  in  which  it  is 
embodied. 

Consider  that  religion  is  a  great  and  a  long  work ;  and 
asks  so  much  time,  that  there  is  none  left  for  the  delaying 
of  it. 

But  then  I  say  withal,  that  if  these  principles  were  banish- 
ed out  of  the  world,  Government  would  be  far  more  diffi- 
cult than  now  it  is,  because  it  would  want  its  firmest  basis 


RHYTHM. 


189 


The  diverstt 
racter  to  the 

the  frecjueat 
I  i'auiiliurity 
•ged  bougha; 

extremes  in 
ng;  rules  are 
case  allows, 
there  is  such 
character  of 
phony.  The 
ia  Cicero. 

iircncc  both 

• 

lythm  which 
d  uuaccented 
ule  must  be 
The  writings 
of  harmony, 
in  style.  It 
from  this,  in 
r  demands  a 
that  such  aa 
regularly  re- 
lony  ever  re- 
n  which  it  is 

EC  work :  and 
the  delaying 

were  bauisb- 

\T  more  diffi- 

firmest  basis 


tad  foundation;  there  would  be  iulinitely  more  disorders  in 
the  world,  if  men  were  restrained  from  injustice  and  violence 
ouly  by  humane  laws,  and  not  by  principles  of  conscience 
and  the  dread  of  another  world. 

If  the  word  humane  in  this  last  extract  be  pronounced 
as  it  is  here  spelt,  the  ear  will  instantly  detect  the  want  of 
rhythm  in  the  sentence.  The  olTense  is  indeed  so  great 
that  we  cannot  doubt  the  word  was  pronounced  in  the  time 
of  Tillotson  as  it  is  now  with  the  accent  on  the  first  syllable, 
and  that  we  have  only  conformed  the  orthography  to  the 
pronunciation. 

In  striking  contrast  with  the  style  of  Tillotson  in  respect  to 
all  the  oral  properties,  and  particularly  that  of  rhythm,  is  the 
style  of  Milton,  of  which  the  following  are  beautiful  exem- 
plifications. 

I  shall  detain  you  now  no  longer  in  the  demonstration  of 
what  we  should  not  do,  but  straight  conduct  you  to  a  hill- 
side, where  I  will  point  you  out  the  right  path  of  a  virtuous 
and  noble  education,  laborious  indeed  at  the  first  ascent,  but 
else  so  smooth,  so  green,  so  full  of  goodly  prospects  and  melo- 
dious sounds  on  every  side,  that  the  harp  of  Orpheus  was 
not  more  charming. 

By  a  slight  change  in  the  rhythm  without  afl'ecting  the 
sense,  this  sentence  may  lose  all  its  beauty.  By  substituting, 
for  instance,  in  the  last  part  of  it  "  at  first"  for  "at  the  first 
ascent";  "on  all  sides"  for  "on  every  side";  and  "sweet" 
for  "charming,"  the  rhythm  is  greatly  marred;  as  will  be 
seen  from  a  mere  perusal  of  it  as  thus  altered: 

I  will  point  you  out  the  right  path  of  a  virtuous  and  noble 
education,  laborious  indeed  at  first,  but  else  so  smooth,  so 
green,  so  full  of  goodly  prospects  and  melodious  sounds  on 
both  sides,  that  the  harp  of  Orpheus  Avas  not  more  sweet. 

When  a  man  hath  been  laborinij  the  hardest  labor  in  the 
deep  mines  of  knowledge,  hath  furnished  out  his  findings  in 
all  their  equipage,  drawn  forth  his  reasons  as  it  were  a  battle 


'%•*#. 


r  1 1 


.Ui. 


•^  ;^N-: ;;  i 


Ky'  ISii 


•  i?'i 


190 


Ans!or,i'  r,.   i'kdpi.h  tiks. 


rano-edj  scattered  and  defented  all  objections  in  his  way, 
calls  out  Ills  adversary  into  the  plain,  otVers  hiui  the  advan- 
ta'i-e.  of  wind  and  sun,  if  he  please,  only  that  he  uuiy  try  the 
matter  by  dint  of  argument;  for  his  o|)ponents  then  to  skulk, 
to  lay  ambushments,  to  keep  a  narrow  bridge  of  licen-siiig 
where  the  challenger  should  pass,  though  it  be  valor  enough 
in  soldiership,  is  but  weakness  and  cowardice  in  the  wars 
of  truth.  For  who  knows  not  that  truth  is  strong,  next  to 
the  Almighty?  She  needs  no  policies,  nor  stratagenia,  nor 
licensings,  to  make  her  victorious.  Those  are  the  shifts  and 
the  defences  that  error  uses  against  her  power. — Of  [/n- 
licetised  Printing. 

§  262.  Rliytlim  also  forliids  an  excessive  recuiTence 
of  metrical  feet  which  shall  suggest  the  t^uspicioii  that 
the  speaker  has  become  poet. 

This  is  a  fault  in  style  into  which  immature  writers  are 
liable  to  fall;  especially  if  accustomed  much  to  the  exclusive 
recitation  of  poetical  compositions.  While  it  implies  a  mu- 
sical car,  it  is  yet  a  fault  of  excess;  and  in  pure  oratory  is 
inadmissible.  The  fault  more  commonly  appears  in  the 
njore  elevated  parts  of  discourse,  when  the  speaker,  as  it 
were,  absorbs  the  audience  into  liimself,  and  imagines  him- 
self no  longer  an  orator,  in  address  to  others,  but  their 
mouth-piece  in  the  mere  utterance  or  pouring  out  of  their 
common  thoughts  and  feelings.  As  words  of  i'oreign  origin 
do  not  readily  fall  in  with  those  of  native  stock  in  rhythmi- 
cal harmony,*  writers  who  are  liable  to  this  fault  of  excess 
in  rhythm  are  generally  characterised  for  their  preference  of 
Anirlo-Saxon  words. 

The  following   passage,  from  a   popular  author  in    the 


*  In  the  last  extract  from  Milton,  it  will  be  seen  at  once  that 
'•ainhiishinenfs  "  mirs  the  rhytlim.  And  in  the  next  quotation, 
nnder  this  section,  the  phrase  "  assurances  of  iinmortahty  "  Is  /Jaioat 
the  only  one  that  interrupts  the  poetical  structure. 


n  his  way, 
I  the  adviiQ- 
iiiiiy  try  the 
en  ti)  skulk, 
of  licensing 
alur  cuou<^h 
in  the  wars 
ung,  next  to 
tagenis,  nor 
le  shilts  and 
r.— 0/  Utu 


recurrence 
;picion  that 

writers  are 
lie  exclusive 
iiplies  a  nui- 
re  oratory  is 
pears  in  the 
leaker,  as  it 
lagines  him- 
rs,  but  their 

out  of  their 
)reign  origin 

in  rhythmi- 
ult  of  excess 
preference  of 

ithor  in   the 

I  at  once  that 
lext  quotation, 
lity  "  Is  '-Jflioat 


HIIYTllM.  191 

lighter  (lej)artrneats  of   Mterature  might  be  reduced  to  the 
form  <»f  regular  blank  verse. 

Then  when  the  dusk  of  evening  liad  come  on,  and  not  a 
sound  disturbed  the  sacred  stjlluoss  of  the  |)lace — when  the 
bright  moon  poured  in  her  light  on  toml)  and  monument,  on 
pillar,  wall,  and  arch,  and  most  of  all,  it  seemed  to  ihem, 
upon  her  (jiiiet  grave  -in  that  calm  time,  when  all  outward 
tilings  and  inward  thoughts  teem  with  assurances  of  immor- 
tality, and  worldly  hopes  and  fears  are  humbled  in  the  dust 
before  them— then,  with  tranquil  and  submissive  hearts  they 
turned  away  and  left  the  child  with  God.  Oh!  it  is  hard 
to  take  to  heart  the  lesson  that  such  deaths  will  teach,  but 
let  no  man  reject  it,  for  it  is  one  that  all  must  learn,  and  is 
a  mighty,  universal  truth.  When  death  strikes  down  the 
innocent  and  young,  for  every  fragile  lorm  from  which  he 
lets  the  panting  spirit  free,  a  hundred  virtues  rise  in  shapes 
of  mercy,  charity,  and  love,  to  walk  the  world  and  bless  it. 
Of  every  tear  that  sorrowing  mortals  shed  on  such  green 
graves,  some  good  is  burn,  some  gentler  nature  comes,  in 
the  destroyer^s  steps  there  spring  up  bright  creations  that 
defy  his  power,  and  his  dark  path  becomes  a  way  oi'  light 
to  heaven. 

$  2(33.  A  correct  oi-  faulty  rliythm  appears  most  con- 
spicuou.s  at  the  tcnuiiiation  of  sentences  or  phrases,  as 
the  character  of  a  strain  of  music  is  most  alRxted  by 
the  cadence. 

In  the  cadence  of  a  sentence,  or  member  of  a  sentence,  is 
concentrated  its  entire  musical  elTect.  Hence,  in  the  study 
of  rh\  thm,  the  chief  attention  has  been  given  to  the  con- 
struction! of  the  cadence. 

The  style  of  Addison  owes  its  easy  flow  in  a  great 
measure  to  the  fact  that,  while  trochaic  cadences,  or  such 
as  end  with  an  unaccented  syllable,  predominate,  the  heavy 
eflect  of  an  invariable  sameness  is  avoided  by  a  due  inter- 
spetsion  of  iambic  endings.  A  spondaic  cadence  rarely 
occurs  in  the  comoositions  of  this  author. 


*itE^ 


W' 


192 


ABSOLUTE    PROPERTIES. 


U) 


I'! 


mi 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HARMONY MELODY. 

$  264.  Melody  is  founded  on  pitch ;  and  requires 
that  the  phrases  or  members  of  a  sentence  be  so  con- 
structed and  disposed  tliat,  in  the  pronunciation,  the 
successions  of  pitch  be  pleasing  to  the  ear. 

The  term  '*"  melody/'  as  applied  both  to  style  in  compo- 
sition and  to  elocution,  has,  for  the  most  part,  been  used  ia 
a  vague  and  indeterminate  sense.  Its  v.se  in  musiu  is, 
however,  fixed;  and  there  is  obviously  every  reason  for  pre* 
serving  to  it  the  same  radical  import  in  all  its  various  appli- 
cations. In  song,  it  denotes  pitch  in  succession^,  and  is  clearly 
distinguished  from  rhythm,  which  respects  accent  in  success- 
ion. In  elocution,  we  perceive  the  necessity  of  maintaining 
the  same  distinction,  and  need,  for  this  purpose,  the  same 
precision  in  the  distinct  use  of  the  terms.  The  same  neces- 
sity, likewise,  exists  in  style. 

The  exact  relations  of  pitch  to  style  are  indicated  in  the 
fact  that,  in  the  oral  delivery  of  discourse,  the  mutual  de- 
pendence and  connection  of  the  particular  constituents  of  the 
complex  thought  are  expressed  chiefly,  although  not  exclu- 
sively, through  the  variations  of  pitch.  While  it  belongs 
to  elocution  to  define  precisely  what  these  variations  are,  it 
is  the  appropriate  province  of  rhetoric  to  prescribe  how  the 
sentence  shall  be  constructed  so  as  to  meet  these  qualities  of 
an  easy  and  agreeable  elocution. 

More  particularly,  every  constituent  part  of  a  complex 
thought,  or  the  expression  of  it  in  a  particular  phrase,  has, 
in  a  correct  elocution,  a  pitch  of  its  own  by  which  it  ia  dis- 
tinguished from  the  other  constituent  parts.  In  passing 
from  one  phrase  to  another,  the  vaicc  changes  its  pitch  for 


1  musiG  IS, 


MELODY.  193 

tfte  purposf  often  simply  of  making  the  transition,  and  with 
no  rclerence  to  any  emphatic  distinction.  These  successive 
ranges  of  pitch,  given  respectively  to  the  several  phrases, 
may  obviously  be  such  as  to  be  offensive  to  a  musical  ear. 
So  far,  therefore,  as  they  are  determined  by  the  structure  of 
fho  sentence,  they  need  to  be  regarded  in  style. 

But,  farther  than  this,  the  relations  between  the  constitu- 
ent thoughts  are  indicated,  in  delivery,  chiefly,  by  the  pitch 
of  the  voice.  If,  accordingly,  the  sentence  be  so  constituted 
that  these  relations  cannot  appropriately  be  expressed  with 
ease  and  agreeable  etFect  under  the  limitations  of  the  laws 
of  vocal  sounds,  it  is  so  far  faulty;  and  the  prevention  or 
correction  of  the  fault  comes  within  the  proper  purview  of 
rhetorical  style. 

How  far,  and  in  what  particular  respects,  the  principles 
of  melody  in  elocution  may  thus  affect  the  style  of  discourse, 
will  be  exhibited  in  the  sections  which  follow. 

$  265.  Melody  in  style  may  be  distinguished  into 
two  kinds ;  the  melody  of  proportion,  and  the  melo- 
dy of  arrangement, 

A  fault  in  melody  may  be  either  in  the  time  of  the  varia- 
tions of  pitch, — the  variations  being  too  rapid  or  the  con- 
trary,- or  in  the  character  of  the  variations  themselves,  being 
in  tiieir  own  nature  unmusical. 

That  species  of  melody  which  is  founded  on  the  time  of 
the  variations,  or  what  amounts  to  the  same  thing,  on  the 
length  of  the  phrases,  is  denominated  the  melody  of  propor- 
tion. The  melody  of  arrangement  respects  the  character  of 
the  variations  themselves,  as  judged  by  a  musical  standard. 

$  266.  The  melody  of  proportion  is  founded  on 
the  relative  lenarfh  of  (he  phrases  or  parts  of  a  sen- 
tence ;  and  re(|niro<  ilmf  fl-.-  di  r-nurs*^  be  neither  frag- 


}^n 


194 


ABSOLUTE    PROPERTIES. 


Pf^-'       I 


■jiili 


mentaiy  and  abrupt,  on  the  one  hand ;  nor  on  the 
otlier,  be  made  up  of  phrases  too  extended  for  easy 

elocution. 

The  abrupt  and  fragmentary  style  is  more  tolerable  in 
essays-  and  is  more  frequent  in  this  department  of  writing. 
The'  lullowing  extract  from  Lord  Bacoi>,  however  excellent 
ia  uther  respects,  is  deiicient  in  melody. 

Studies  serve  for  delight,  for  ornament,  and  for  ability. 
Their  chief  use  for  delight  is  in  privateness  and  retiring 
for  ornament,  is  in  discourse;    and  for  ability    is   in   the 
judgment  and  disposition  of  business;  ior  expert  men  can 
execute,  and  perhaps  judge  of  particulars  one  by  one    but 
he   general  counsels, 'and  the  plots  and  ^-^-^^^^^  ;^'^' 
fairs  come  best  from  tho.e  that  are  learned.       1  o  spend  too 
much  time  in  studies  is  sloth;  to  use  them  too  "-chloi-  or- 
nament, is  atVectation;  to  make  judgn.ent  whoh>   bv    heir 
rules  is  the  humor  of  a  sdiolar:   they  pertect  nature  and  ai^ 
perfected  bv  experience:  for  natural  abilities  are  1  ke  nat  nal 
plants,  that  need  pruning  by  study;  and  studies  themselves 
do  crive  forth  directions  too  much  at  large,  except  they  be 
bomided  in  by  experience.     Crafty  men  contemn    studies 
simple  men  admire,  and  wise  men  use  them;  lur  they  teach 
not  their  own  use;  but  that  is  a  wisdom  without  them,  and 
above  them,  won  by  observation. 

The  opening  sentence  in  Hooker^s  Ecclesiastical  Polity, 
as  well  as  the  succeeding  extract  from  Middleton,  labor 
from  being  broken  up  by  numerous  qualifying  clauses. 

Thou.rh  for  no  other  cause,  yet  for  this;  that  posteritv 
may  knSw  we  have  not  loosely,  through  silence,  permitted 
things  to  pass  away  as  in  a  dream,  there  shall  be  tor  men  s 
information  extant  thus  much  concerning  the  present  state  ot 
the  Church  of  God  established  amongst  us,  and  their  carelul 
endeavor  which  would  have  upheld  the  same. 

And  that  it  was  not  peculiar  to  the  gift  of  language  or 
tonsues  only,  to  be  given  at  the  moment  of  its  exertion,  but 
common  likewise  to  all  the  rest,  will  be  shown,  probably, 
on  some  other  occasion,  more  at  lurge  in  a  particular  trea 


.\ii:i.()i)V. 


IL6 


r  on  the 

for  easy 


ilerabie  in 
)f  writing. 

:r  excelleut 


or  ability, 
d  retiring; 

is  in  the 
•t  men  can 
y  one,  but 
ling  of  af- 
)  spend  too 
luch  for  or- 
ly  by  their 
ne,  and  are 
like  natural 

themselves 
ept  they  be 
liu  studies, 
r  they  teach 
,t  them,  and 

ical  Polity, 
leton,  labor 
clauses. 

lat  posterity 
;e,  permitted 
be  lor  men's 
3sent  state  of 
their  careful 

language  or 
exertion,  but 

n,  probably, 
.rticular  trea 


Use,  which  is  already  prepared  by  me,  on  that  subject. 

Mid(lle,to)i. 

The  style  of  Ossian  and  of  Young  in  his  Night  Thought* 
is  also  deficient  in  this  species  of  melody. 

Leave,  blue-eyed  Clatho,  leave  thy  hall.  Behold  that 
early  beam  of  thine.  The  host  is  withered  in  its  course. 
No  further  look — it  is  dark.  Light  trembling  from  the 
harp,  strike,  virgins,  strike  the  sound.  No  hunter  he  de- 
scends, from  the  dewy  haunt  of  the  bounding  roe.  He 
bends  not  "his  bow  on  the  wind;  or  sends  his  gray  arrow 
abroad. — Temora,  B.  v. 

Sense!  take  the  rein;  blind  passion!  drive  us  on; 
And  Ignorance!  befriend  us  on  our  way; 
Ye  new,  but  truest  patrons  of  our  peace! 
Yes,  give  the  pulse  full  empire;  live  the  brute. 
Since  as  the  brute  we  die:  the  sum  of  man, 
Of  Godlike  man!  to  revel  and  to  rot. 

Night  Thoughts, 

The  opposite  fault  of  this  kind  may  be  exemplified  in  the 
following  extracts  irom  John  Howe: 

If  we  can  suppose  an  offence  of  that  kind  may  be  of  so 
heinous  a  nature  and  so  circumstanced  as  tb  .t  it  cannot  be 
congruous  it  should  be  remitted  without  some  reparation  to 
the  prince  and  compensation  for  the  scandal  done  to  gov- 
ernment; it  is  easy  to  suppose  it  much  more  incongruous  it 
should  be  so  in  the  present  case. — Living  Temple. 

And  no  doubt  so  large  and  capacious  intellects  may  well 
be  supposed  to  penetrate  far  into  the  reasoi  and  wisdom  of 
his  dispensations;  and  so  not  only  to  exercise  submission  in 
an  implicit  acquiescence  in  the  unseen  and  only  believed 
fitness  of  them,  but  also  to  take  an  inexpressible  compla- 
cency and  satisfaction  in  what  they  manifestly  discern 
thereof,  and  to  be  able  to  resolve  their  delectation  in  the 
works  and  ways  of  God  into  a  hioher  cause  and  reason  than 
the  mere  general  belief  that  he  doth  all  things  well;  viz: 
their  immediate  delightful  view  of  the  congruity  and  titneaa 
of  what  he  does. — Ibid. 


Liiiii-'l 


?    t 


^'•i    i 


A BSOL U  r K    P KO P K RTI E». 

In  tliis  class  of  faults— those  against  meloHy  of  propor- 
tion, may  be  included,  also,  the  joining  togetlfr  u\'  dispro- 
portionatelv  long  and  short  niemhers.  The  ear  deuianda 
not  only  variety,  but,  also,  a  harmonized  varieiv  t  r  propor- 
tion between  the  members  of  a  sentence.  Tiie  fallowing 
sentence  from  Sterne  is  in  this  respect  highly  melodious: 

The  accusing  spirit  which  flew  up  to  Heaven's  Chancery 
with  the  oath,  blushed  as  he  gave  it  in;  and  the  recording 
angel,  as  he  wrote  it  down,  dropped  a  tear  upon  the  word 
and  blotted  it  out  forever. 

By  simply  altering  the  length  of  one  or  two  of  the  clauses, 
the  melody  may  be  entirely  destroyed  through  a  mere  change 
of  proportion  between  the  parts.  This  may  be  done  by  leav- 
ing out  in  the  last  clause  the  phrase  "^  upon  the  word,"  and 
also  the  word  "forever";  thus,  "and  the  recording  angel, 
as  he  wrote  it,  dropped  a  tear  and  blotted  it  out." 

$  2G7.  The  Melody  op  Arrangement  is  founded 
on  the  variations  of  pitch  which  are  requisite  for  ex- 
pressinij  the  ])ropcr  relations  between  the  constituent 
parts  of  a  complex  sentence,  or  more  directly  on  those 
relations  themselves  ,  and  requires  that  the  sentence  be 
so  constituted  that  those  relations  may  be  easily  ex- 
pressed by  the  voice. 

It  has  been  remarked,  under  §  264,  that  the  vocal  ex- 
pression of  the  relations  between  the  different  parts  or 
phrases  of  a  complex  sentence,  or  the  grouping  of  speech, 
as  it  is  called,  is  mainly  effected  by  the  function  of  pitch.  In 
a  melodious  style,  accordingly,  the  sentence  must  be  so  con- 
structed that  these  relations  may  be  easily  expressed;  in 
other  words,  so  that  there  may  be  no  confusion  in  the  indi- 
cation of  the  relations  on  the  one  hand,  and  no  laborious 
effort  be  imposed  on  the  voice  in  effecting  this,  on  the  other 


MELODY. 


w 


)f  propor* 

lit'  (lispro- 

deinands 

1  r  propor- 

fiillowing 

)dious: 


Chancery 

recording 

the  word 


be  clauses, 
ere  change 
le  by  leav- 


ora 


:i  » 


ana 


ing  angel, 

n 

s  founded 
Le  for  ex- 
Diistituent 
r  on  those 
ntence  be 
easily  ex- 

!  vocal  ex- 
t  parts  or 
01  speech, 
t"  pitch.  In 
;  be  so  con- 
pressed;  in 
in  the  indi" 
1)  laborious 
1  the  other 


In  the  following  selections,  although  the  sentences  are 
more  or  less  cuinpk  they  are  yet  so  arranged  that  the  re- 
liitjnna  between  the  parts  are  easily  indicated  by  the  voice; 
and  the  elVect  on  the  ear  is  consequently  pleasing  in  a  high 
degree. 

The  first  are  from  Dugald  Stuart,  whose  style  in  this,  re- 
spect is  highly  finished. 

The  most  trifling  accident  of  scenery,  it  is  evident,  at 
least  the  most  trilling  to  an  unskilled  eye,  may  thus  possess 
in  his  estimation,  a  value  superior  to  that  which  he  ascribes 
to  beauties  of  a  lar  higher  order. 

By  simply  transposing  the  second  and  third  clauses  of  this 

sentence,  the  melodious  flow  is  broken  up  and  its  music  is 

lost. 

The  most  trifling  accident  of  scenery,  at  least  the  most 
trifling  to  an  unskilled  eye,  it  is  evident,  may  thus  possess, 
in  his  estimation,  a  value  superior  to  that  which  he  ascribes 
to  beauties  of  a  far  higher  order. 

If  the  one  party  should  observe,  for  instance,  to  his  com- 
panion that  the  minute  parts  of  the  tree,  which  the  latter 
affirms  to  be  the  most  remote; — that  its  smaller  ramiflca- 
tions,  its  foliage  and  the  texture  of  its  bark  are  seen  much 
more  distinctly  than  the  corresponding  parts  of  the  other; 
he  could  not  fail  in  immediately  convincing  him  of  the  in- 
accuracy of  his  estimate. 

In  this  sentence  the  leading  thought  is  placed  last.  The 
voice,  accordingly,  in  pronouncing  it,  naturally  rises  to  a 
higher  pitch  and  swells  into  a  larger  volume;  and  thus 
leaves  upon  the  ear  at  the  close  an  agreeable  fulness  and 
force  of  sound.  At  the  same  time,  the  less  important  ex- 
planatory and  modifying  clauses  are  so  thrown  in,  as  both 
to  break  up  the  monotonousness  of  a  direct  assertion,  and 
also  to  furnish  the  proper  occasion  of  a  pleasing  variety  iq 
the  successions  of  pitch.     Change  the  order  of  almost  any 

17* 


ii*'      '■ 


Ml 


i'Vi 


!if 


ia'i 


1'  'i 


lyo 


ABSOLUTE    PllOr'KRTIK«. 


two  numbers  of  the  sentence  and  the  melody  will  be  de- 
stroyed. 

The  st\le  of  Addison  is  more  direci  and  less  diversit*  d 
with  depejideat  modilung  clauses.  It  exhilnts  this  species 
of  uielody, — tliat  of  arran^-ement  iu  the  disposition  of  the 
leading  thought  in  the  sentenci;;  wliich  is  generally  so  placed 
as,  in  a  reading  correctly  adapted  to  the  sense,  to  leave  the 
ear  impressed  with  an  agreeable  elevation  and  body  of 
sound. 

We  are  obliged  to  devotion  for  the  noblest  buildings  that 
have  adorned  the  several  countries  of  the  world.  It  is  this 
which  has  set  men  at  work  on  temples  and  public  places  of 
worship,  not  only  that  they  might,  by  the  magniiicence  of 
the  building,  invite  the  Deity  to  reside  within  it,  but  that 
such  stupendous  works  might,  at  thj  same  time,  open  the 
mind  to  vast  conceptions,  and  fit  it  to  converse  with  the 
divinity  of  the  place. — Spectator, 

It  seeks  not  to  bereave  or  destroy  the  body ;  it  seeks  to 
save  tile  soul  by  humbling  tiie  body,  not  by  imprisonment 
or  pecuniary  mulct,  much  less  by  stripes  or  bonds  or  disin- 
heritance, but  by  fatherly  admonishment  and  christian  re- 
buke, to  cast  it  into  godly  sorrow  whose  end  is  joy  and  in- 
genuous bashfulness  to  sin.  if  tliat  cannot  be  wrought, 
then  as  a  tender  mother  takes  her  child  and  holds  it  over  the 
pit  with  scaring  words,  that  it  may  learn  to  fear  where 
danger  is;  so  doth  excommunication  as  dearly  and  as  freely, 
without  money,  use  her  wholesome  and  saving  terrors. 
She  is  instant;  she  beseeches;  by  all  the  dear  and  sweet 
promises  of  salvation  she  entices  and  woos:  by  all  the 
threatenings  and  thunders  of  the  law  and  rejected  gospel, 
she  charges  and  adjures:  this  is  all  her  armory,  her  muni- 
tion, her  artillery :  then  she  awaits  with  long-sufferance  and 
yet  ardent  zeal, — Milton. 

Of  Law  there  can  be  no  less  acknowledged,  than  that  her 
Beat  is  the  bosom  of  God,  her  voice  the  harmony  of  the 
world;  all  things  in  heaven  and  earth  do  her  homage,  the 
very  least  as  feeling  her  care,  and  the  greatest  as  not  ex- 
empted from  her  power;  both  angels  and  luea  and  creatures 


MELODY. 


199 


ill  be  de- 

diversif*  d 
bis  sj)ecies 
ioti  of  the 
so  placed 
leave  the 
[    body  of 


dings  that 
It  IS  this 
places  of 
licence  of 
,  but  that 
,  open  the 
;  with  the 


t  seeks  to 
risonment 
s  or  disin- 
listian  re- 
>y  and  in- 
wrought, 
it  over  the 
ear  where 
as  freely, 
g  terrors, 
md  sweet 
y  all  the 
id  gospel, 
her  muni- 
rance  and 

n  that  her 
ny  of  the 
mage,  the 
Ls  not  ex- 
.  creatures 


of  what  condition  soever,  though  each  in  different  sort  and 
manner,  yet  all  with  uniiurra  consent,  admiring  her  as  the 
niutiier  of  their  peace  and  ]oy.- -Hooker. 

§  2'38.  Faults  in  respect  to  the  melody  of  arrange 
nient  are  cither  in  the  adoption  of  the  loose,  in  prefer- 
ence to  the  periodic  structure  of  a  sentence,  or  of  the 
parenthetical  as  opposed  to  the  compact  structure. 

The  periodic  and  the  compact  structure  is  as  favorable  to 
clearness  and  to  energy,  as  to  melody;  and  hence  it  will  be 
again  treated  of  in  the  chapters  on  those  properties  of  st}  le. 
It  has  a  more  intimate,  and  vital  connection,  however,  with 
melody;  since  a  sentence  may  be  perspicuous  or  energetic 
which  is  not  periodic  in  its  structure,  whereas  this  structure 
is  indispensable  to  melody. 

§  209.  A  PERIODIC  STRUCTURE  is  one  in  which 
the  leading  thought  of  the  sentence  is  presented  in  the 
closing  member. 

A  LOOSE  STRUCTURE,  as  opposed  to  the  periodic, 
is  one  in  which  the  sentence  terminates  with  one  or 
more  dependent  clauses. 

This  definition  is  gi"en  in  preference  to  that  adopted  by 
Dr.  Camjjbell  and  after  him  by  Dr.  Whately,  which  is  as 
follows:  "A  period  is  a  complex  sentence  in  which  the 
meaning  remains  suspended  till  the  whole  is  finished."  It 
is  easy  to  construct  a  sentence  which  shall  be  exceedingly 
loose  while  it  yet  accords  precisely  with  this  definition. 
For  example:  "One  party  had  given  their  whole  attention, 
during  several  years,  to  the  project  not  only  of  enriching 
themselves  and  impoverishing  the  rest  of  the  nation;  but, 
also,  by  these  and  other  means,  establishing  their  dominion 
under  the  government  and  with  the  favor  of  a  family  who 
were  foreigners   that  they  might  easily  believe  they  were 


11  »,i 


-II 


% 


200 


ABSOI.L  I  K     l'A\n'i.iil  li'.ri. 


established  on  the  throne  by  the  good-uill  nnd  strengih  of 
this  party  alone."  This  sentence  n)ust  be  denominated  ex- 
ceeding loose,  and  yet,  to  apply  Dr.  Campbell's  criterion, 
there  is  no  "  place  before  the  end,  at  which,  if  you  make  a 
stop,  the  construction  of  the  preceding  part  will  render  it  a 
complete  sentence." 

Why  the  periodic  structure  is  favorable  to  melody  may  be 
seen  in  the  fact,  that  the  leading  thought  being  presented  in 
whole  or  in  part  in  the  closing  member,  that  member  must 
receive  vocal  distinction  in  the  enunciation,  which  is  indi- 
cated by  the  pitch;  and  consequently  the  sentence  closes 
with  a  full  and  strong  impression  on  the  ear.  In  a  loose 
sentence,  on  the  contrary,  ending  with  a  dependent  clause, 
the  voice  is  abated  upon  it,  and  the  effect  is  analogous  to 
that  of  ending  a  strain  of  music  on  some  other  than  the  key- 
note. 

Examples  of  a  periodic  structure  are  given  under  $326. 
The  following  are  instances  of  a  loose  structure: 

And  here  it  was  often  found  of  absolute  necessity  to  in- 
fluence or  cool  the  passions  of  the  audience,  especially  at 
Rome,  where  Tully  spoke;  and  with  whose  writings  young 
divines,  I  mean  those  among  them  who  read  old  authors, 
are  more  conversant  than  with  those  ol  Demosthenes;  who, 
by  many  degrees,  excelled  the  other,  at  least  as  an  author. — 
Swift. 

It  would  be  difficult,  perhaps,  to  find  in  the  writings  of  a 
reputable  author,  a  sentence  more  loosely  constructed  than 
this.  The  leading  thought  terminates  with  the  first  mem- 
ber; and  there  are  five  modifying  clauses  appended,  at  each 
of  which  the  voice  seems  ready  to  rest,  but  is  called  up 
anew  by  another  connective  bringing  in  a  new  member. 
While  it  is  not  destitute  of  clearness  or  strength,  it  is  ex- 
ceedingly difficult  to  express  the  relations  between  the  mem- 
bers by  any  pleasing  management  of  the  voice 


I 


mf:lody. 


201 


The  following  stanza  from  Byron,  whose  poetry  is  not 
remarkable  for  this  kind  of  properties,  is  also  exceedingly 
loose,  while  not  wanting  in  other  qualities  of  an  elegant 
diction: 

And  Ardennes  waves  above  them  her  green  leaves. 
Dewy  with  nature's  tear-drops,  as  they  pass. 
Grieving— if  aught  inanimate  e'er  grieves — 
Over  the  unretiiruing  brave, — alas! 
Ere  evening  to  be  trodden  like  the  grass 
Which  now  beneath  them,  but  above  shall  grow 
la  its  next  verdure,  when  this  hery  mass 
Of  living  valor  rolling  on  the  foe. 
And  burning  with  high  hope,  shall  moulder  cold  and  low. 

To  this  succeeded  that  licentiousness  which  entered  with 
the  Restoration;  and,  from  infecting  our  religion  and  morals, 
fell  to  corrupt  our  langunge:   which  last  was  not  like  to  be 
much  improved  by  those  who  at  that  time  made  up  the  court 
of  King  Charles  the  Second;  either  such  who  had  lullowed 
him  in  his  banishment,  or  who  had  been  altogether  conver- 
sant in  the  dialect  of  those  fanatic  times;  or  young  men, 
who  had  been  educated  in  the  same  company ;  so  that  the 
court,  which  used  to  be  the  standard  of  propriety  and  cor- 
rectness of  speech,  was  then,  and  I  think  hath  ever  smce 
continued,  the  worst  school  in  England  lor  that  accomplish- 
ment- and  so  will  remain  till  better  care  be  taken  in  the 
education  of  our  young  nobility,  that  they  may  set  out  into 
the  world  with  some  foundation  of  literature,  in  order  to 
qualify  them  for  patterns  of  politeness.  -Swift. 

The  liist  could  not  end  his  learned  treatise  w^ithout  a 
panegyric  of  modern  learning  and  knowledge  in  comparison 
0  the  ancient;  and  the  other  falls  sc  grossly  into  the  cen- 
sure  of  the  old  poetry  and  preference  of  the  new,  that  1 
could  not  road  either  of  these  strains  without  indignation, 
which  no  quality  among  men  is  so  apt  ^o  raise  in  one  as 
self-sufficiency,  the  worst  composition  out  of  the  pride  ana 
ignorance  of  mankind. — Temple. 

§  270.  An  antithetic  structure,  so  far  as  it  is  peri- 
odic, is  peculiarly  favorable  to  this  kind  of  melody. 


m  f 


V,     I'       I 


«<  I 


203 


ABSOLUTE    1'R0PI:RTIES. 


Where  the  main  member  of  the  antithesis,  or  that  to 
which  the  writer  wishes  to  give  peculiar  prominence,  is 
placed  last,  the  antithesis  is  periodic,  and  so  lar  melodious. 
Where  this  order  is  reversed,  the  melody  is  marred  or  de- 
stroyed. The  I'oUowinjr  extract  has  this  quality  in  u  high 
degrt'e,  although  llie  members  are  too  uniformly  short  to 
give  it  the  highest  n)elodious  elVect. 

If  Ihey  wore  unacquainted  with  the  works  of  philosophers 
and  poets,  they  were  deeply  read  in  the  oracles  of  God.  If 
thoir  names  were  not  found  in  the  registers  of  heralds,  they 
felt  assured  they  were  recorded  in  the  Book  of  Life.  U  their 
steps  were  not  accompanied  by  a  sjjlendid  train  of  menials, 
legions  of  ministering  angels  had  charge  vwev  them. — • 
Macaiday. 

§  271.  Parenthetical  sentences  are  opposed  to 
melody,  when  the  parentheses  arc  of  excessive  length, 
or  when  parentheses  are  included  within  other  paien- 
theses. 

The  reason  of  this  is  that  when  the  parenthetical  part  is 
long,  a  great  part  of  the  sentence  must  be  pronounced  with 
an  abatement  of  the  voice;  and  when  parentheses  are  inclu- 
ded within  parentheses,  the  voice,  in  the  endeavor  fo  express 
the  relations  correctly,  sinks  too  far  for  melodious  effect. 

The  following  sentences  are  faulty  in  this  respect. 

For  we  here  see,  that  before  God  took  any  people  to  bo 
peculiar  to  him,  from  the  rest  of  men,  the  reason  which  he 
gives,  why  his  spirit  should  not  always  strive  with  man,  in 
common  (after  an  intimation  of  his  contemptible  meanness, 
and  his  own  indulgence  towards  him  notwithstanding,  and 
instance  given  of  his  abounding  wickedness  in  those  days) 
was,  because  "  all  the  imaginations  of  the  thoughts  of  his 
heart  were  only  evil  continudly." — John  Howe;  Living 
Te7nple. 

Yet  because  it  may  be  grateful  when  we  are  persuaded 
that  tilings  are  so,  to  fortify  (as  much  as  we  can)  that  per- 


MELODY. 


aa^ 


or  that  to 
tiineiice,  is 
melodious, 
ned  or  de- 

in  u  iugh 
,ly  short  to 

iliilosophers 
f  God.  If 
iiralds,  they 
e.  ii  their 
of  menials, 
cr   them. — ■ 

pposcd  to 
ive  length, 
her  paieii- 

fical  part  is 
)unced  uith 
!s  are  inclu- 
r  to  express 
effect, 
pect. 

joople  to  bo 
a  which  he 
ith  man,  in 
e  meanness, 
anding,  and 
those  days) 
Lights  of  his 
ve;  Living 


Buasion,  and"  because  our  persuasion  concerning  those  attri- 
butes of  (»od  will  be  still  liable  to  assault  unless  we  ack now- 
led  "-c  him  every  where  present;  ^noi*  ca"  '^  ^^^^^  ^'^  con- 
ceivable otherwise,  how   the  influence   of  his  knowledjve, 
power  and  goodness  can  be  so  universal  as  will  be  tlmiiglit 
necessary  to  infer  a  universal  obligation  to  religion;)  it  will 
be  therefore  requisite  to  add  somewhat  concerning  his  omni- 
presence, or  because  some,  that  love  to  be  v»ry  strictly  crili- 
cal,  will  be  apt  to  think  tha^  lerm  restrictive  of  his  presence 
to  the  universe,  ^as  supposing  to   be  present  is  relative  to 
somewhat  one  may  be  said  present  unto,  whereas  they  w^. 
say  without  the  universe  is  nothing,)  we  will  rather  choose 
to  call  it  immensity. — Id. 

A  very  common  variety  of  faults  of  this  class  occurs 
where,  by  the  interposition  of  a  long  parenthetical  clause, 
a  just  reading  must  throw  an  excessive  stress  on  a  portion 

of  the  sentence. 

Thus  in  the  following  sentence,  the  subject  "they"  being 
separated  from  its  verb,  requires  a  heavy  accent  followed  by 
a  pause  which  destroys  the  melody. 

They,  going  about  to  work  a  righteousness  of  their  own, 
are  not  wise. 

Which,  as  it  standeth  with  christian  duty  in  some  cases, 
80  in  common  all'airs  to  require  it  were  most  unfit. 

Who,  aiming  only  at  the  height  of  greatness  and  sensu- 
ality, hath  in  tract  of  time  reduced  so  great  and  goodly  a 
rart  of  the  world  to  that  lamentable  distress  and  servitude, 
■mder  which,  to  the  astonishment  of  the  understanding  be- 
holders, it  now  faints  and  groans. 


e  persuaded 
n)  that  per- 


204 


§by4'^  \ 


ABSOLUTi:    IMtOl'KUTIEa. 


CHAl^TEli  Vll. 


OP   THE    SUOOESTiVE    PROPERTIES   OP   STYLE. 

§  272.  The  sugcjestive  properties  of  style  in- 
clude those  that  are  founded  on  the  relationship  be- 
tween the  sound  and  the  thought,  and  those  that  are 
founded  on  the  relationship  between  the  object  that 
represents  the  thought  and  tlie  thought.  The  former 
may  l>e  denominated  the  imitative  ;  the  latter,  the  sym- 
bolical properties  of  style. 

It  was  observed,  in  treating  of  tlie  nature  of  language, 
$  245,  that  language  is  representative  or  suggestive  in  its 
nature  in  a  two-fold  respect.  In  the  lirst  place,  a  sensible 
object  is  taken  to  represent  the  thought,  if  abstract,  and  in 
the  second  place,  a  sound  or  word  is  applied  as  indicative  of 
that  object,  or  of  the  mental  state  itself.  Hence  the  ground 
of  distinguishing  these  two  varieties  of  suggestive  properties. 

§  273.  The  properties  of  voice  on  which  the  sugges- 
tive qualities  of  style  are  founded,  are  those  of  quality 
and  time ;  pitch  and  force,  except  as  the  latter  is  con 
nected  with  accent,  not  admitting  any  consideration  it 
this  department  of  style. 

§  274.  Words  regarded  as  sounds  are  imitative  of 
three  different  classes  of  thoughts :  1.  sensations  ol 
sounds;  2.  other  sensations  analogous  to  those  of 
sound  ;  3.  mental  states  analogous  to  these  sensations. 

$  275.  All  languages  contain  words  which,  in  their 
very  structure  as  composite  sounds,  more  or  less  per 
fectly  resemble  in  quality,  as  soft  or  hai-sh,  <fec,,  the 
sounds  which  tht  i  ^iesignate.     Such  uie.  in  our  owr« 
language,  hiss^  bur-^)  micrtmer,  guvi^le^  dash^  rattle. 


SUOGKSTlVi;    PIIOPKIITIKS. 


205 


The  following-  extracts  are  t'amilinr  exemplifications  of  the 
beauty  and  force  iinpuited  to  style  by  the  adaptation  o(  tha 
sounds  to  the  objects  represented : 

The  pilgrim  oft 
At  dead  of  night  'mid  his  uraison  hears 
Aglifist  the  voice  of  lime-disparting  towers, 
.    Tumbling  all  precipitate  down-dashed 

Rattling  around,  loud  thundering  to  the  moon.— Dyer. 

Loud  sounds  the  air,  redoubling  strokes  on  strokes; 
On  all  sides  round  the  forest  hurls  her  oaks 
Headlong.     Deep  echoing  groan  the  thickets  brown, 
Tiieu  rustling,  crackling,  crushing,  thunder  down. 

Pope's  Iliad. 

§  376.  Not  only  single  words  but  the  eniire  struc- 
ture of  the  sentence  may  bear  a  resemblance  to  the 
sound  represented. 

Soft  is  the  strain  wiien  Zei)hyr  gently  blows, 
And  the  smooth  stream  in  smoother  numbers  flows; 
But  when  loud  surges  lash  the  sounding  shore. 
The  hoarse  rough  verse  should  like  the  torrent  roar. 

Pope:  Essay  on  Criticism, 

What!  like  Sir  Richard,  rumbling,  rough,  and  iitrce. 
With  arms,  and  George,  and  Brunswick  crowd  the  verse. 
Rend  with  tremendous  sounds  your  ears  asur,djr. 
With  gun,  drum,  trumpet,  blunderbuss  and  thunder? 
Then  all  your  muse's  softer  art  display. 
Let  Carolina  smooth  the  tuneful  lay. 
Lull  with  Amelia's  liquid  name  the  Nine, 
And  sweetly  flow  through  all  the  rny«l  line. — Id  :  Sat.  I. 

§  277.  In  so  far  as  the  sensations  of  Found  resemble 
in  their  effects  on  the  mind,  or  in  other  relations,  those 
of  the  other  senses,  words,  regarded  merely  as  sounds, 
may  be  imitative  of  them  also. 

In  this  case,  the  imitation  is  not  direct.,  as  in  the  use  of 

•ounds:  but  only  iiidirecl,  us  it  is  not  I'uunded  immediately 

IS 


M 


r 


206 


ABSOLUTE    PROPERTIES. 


on  the  qualities  of  the  sensation;  but  on  the  relations.  This 
analogy  between  tlie  sound  and  the  object  represented  greatly 
assists' the  impression  to  be  made  in  the  representation. 
•  Of  the  sensations  susceptible  of  this  analogous  imitation 
in  style,  those  of  sight  are  the  most  common;  and  of  the 
latter  class,  those  of  motion. 

Here  the  imitation  is  more  frequently  effected  by  connec- 
ted than  by  single  words.  The  following  will  serve  as  ex- 
eniplifications: 

Deep  in  those  woods  the  black-cap  and  thrush  still  hooted 
and  clang  unweariedly :  she  heard  also  the  cawing  of  crows, 
and  the  scream  of  the  loon;  the  tinkle  of  bells,  the  lowing 
of  cows  and  the  bleating  of  sheep  were  distinctly  audible. 
Her  own  Robin,  on  the  Butternut  below,  began  his  long, 
sweet,  many-toned  carol;  the  tree-toad  chimed  in  with  its 
loud  trilling  chirrup;  and  frogs  from  the  Pond  and  Mill 
Brook,  crooled,  chubbed  and  croaked.— il/flr^'-are^. 

While  the  cock,  with  lively  din. 
Scatters  the  rear  of  darkness  thin. 
And  to  the  stack  or  the  barn-door, 
Stovthf  stmts  his  dames  hehre. 

Milton;  U Allegro, 

Oft  on  a  plat  of  rising  ground, 
I  hear  the  far-oif  curfew  sound. 
Over  some  wide  watered  shore, 
Swinoins  slow  xoith  sullen  roar, 

"^     ''  Id.;  11  Penseroso. 

With  easy  course 
The  vessels  glide;  unless  their  spesd  be  stopped 
By  dead  calms,  that  oft  lie  on  these  smooth  seas. 
When  every  zephyr  sleeps. 

$  278.  Mental  states,  in  so  far  as  they  may  be  con- 
ceived of  as  analogous  to  the  sensations  of  sound,  may 
also  be  imitated  in  language. 

The  range  of  ^his  species  of  imitation  is  very  wide;  aV 


sufjcfiib  n ,  i:  nioi^iJiTiKS. 


2G7 


enseroso. 


thoU""^  the  imitation  is  less  direct  and  obvious  than  in  the 
other  species.  As  all  those  words  in  lano  uage  which  denote 
uieutal  states  as  well  as  all  abstract  terms  were,  origi:.all> , 
expressive  only  of  objects  of  sense,  and  could  be  transferred 
to  tiiis  abstract  use  only  on  condition  of  a  correspondence 
between  the  world  of  thought  and  the  world  of  sense,  we 
iiiii'ht  rationally  expect  that  language  would  furnish  fie- 
qiient  instances  of  this  species  of  imitation.  In  point  of  fact, 
we  lind  that  in  able  writers  the  style  is  ever  colored  by  the 
mental  state.  Auger,  kindness,  vehemence,  gentleness,  anr 
the  like,  have,  each,  a  language,  a  style  of  expression  pecu 
liar  to  themselves.  And  this  peculiarity  of  expression  is  to 
be  traced  in  the  character  of  the  language  regarded  as  a 
complication  of  sound  merely.  The  following  will  serve  as 
illustrations  of  this  correspondence  in  the  sound  to  the  sense: 

In  those  deep  solitudes  and  awful  cells. 
Where  heavenly  pensive  contemplation  dwells, 
And  ever-musing  Melancholy  reigns. 

Pope:  Eloise  to  Abelard, 

With  eyes  upraised,  as  one  inspired. 
Pale  melancholy  sat  retired, 
And  from  her  mild  sequestered  seat 
In  notes  by  distance  made  more  sweet. 
Poured  through  the  mellow  horn  her  pensive  tone. 
Collins:  Ode  to  the  Passions, 

But  O,  how  altered  was  its  sprightlier  tone. 

When  cheerfulness,  a  nymph  of  healthiest  hue. 

Her  bow  across  her  shoulders  flung, 

Her  buskins  gemmed  with  morning  devy. 

Blew  an  inspiring  air,  that  dale  and  thicket  rung. 

The  hunter's  call,  to  Faun  and  Dryad  known. — Ibid, 

Haste  thee.  Nymph,  and  bring  with  thee 
Jest  and  youthful  Jollity, 
Quips  and  cranks  and  wanton  wdles. 
Nods  and  becks  and  wreathed  smiles. 


208 


ABSOLUTE    PROPERTIES. 


f'l         V, 


■,,|ilSi 


H«* 


'''H.jit 


Such  as  hang  on  Hebe's  cheek. 
And  love  to  live  in  dimple  sleek; 
Sport  that  wrinkled  care  derides. 
And  Laughter  holding  both  his  sides. 
Come,  and  trip  it  as  you  go. 
On  the  light  fantastic  toe; 
And  ip  thy  right  hand  lead  with  thee 
The  mo.intain-nvmph,  sweet  Liberty. 

Milton:  U Allegro. 

Nor  shall  the  wisdom,  the  moderation,  the  christian  piety, 
the  constancy  of  our  nobility  and  commons  ot  England  be 
ever  forgotten,  whose  calm  and  temperate  connivance  could 
sit  still  and  smile  out  the  stormv  bluster  ot  "-"  «^«[f  ^^^^^^^^ 
cious  and  precipitant  than  ot  solid  and  deep  reach,  till  th  r 
o.vn  fury  had  run  itself  out  of  breath,  assailing  by  rash  and 
heady  approaches  the  impregnable  situation  ot  our  liberty 
and  safety,  that  laughed  such  weak  enginery  to  ^corn  such 
poor  drifts  to  make  a  national  war  oj  a  surphce  J^abhh,  a 
tippet  souJ}le.--Milton:  Reformation  tn  England. 

To  this  class  of  properties  may  be  referred  the  grammati- 
cal figures  of  paronomasia  and  alliteration.  These  figures 
owe  their  peculiar  beauty  to  the  fact  that  in  u.ing  them  the 
speaker  indicates  a  controlling  reference  to  the  nature  of  Ian- 
guage  as  consisting  of  sounds,-the  sound  of  the  word 
suggesting  the  use  of  them. 

§279.  The  Paronomasia  is  the  use  of  words 
which  diirer    in  sense  but  are   similar  in  sound  ;  as, 

Amantes  sunt  amenics.— Terence. 

The  PUN  is  sometimes  regarded  as  a  species  of  paronon.h* 

sia.     It  differs  from  it  in  this  respect;  that  it  is  the  use  of 

a  word  in  a  two-fold  sense,  as, 

"A  second  Thomas,  or,  at  once,       ^ 
To  name  them  all,  another  Dunce; 

where  allusion  is  made  to  two  celebrated  schokstic  metaphy* 
iicians,  Thomas  Afpiihas  and  John  Duns  Scotus. 


SUGGESTIVE    PllOPEllTIES. 


209 


U  Allegro, 

iristian  piety, 
'  England  be 
livance  could 
n  more  auda- 
ach^  till  their 
nr  by  rash  and 
3f  our  liberty 
to  scorn,  such 
ice  f  rabble,  a 
gland. 

he  grammati- 
These  figures 
ijing  them  the 
nature  of  lan- 
of   the  word 


56  of   words 
n  sound ;  as, 

3  of  parononih* 
;  is  the  use  of 


ince 


.»» 


lastic  metaphy* 


tus. 


Lastly,  he  has  resolved  '  that  neither  person  nor  cause 
jjhall  inaproper  him/  I  may  mistake  his  naeaning,  for  tiie 
word  ye  hear  is  ^improper.'  But  whether,  if  not  a  person, 
yet  a  good  parsonage  or  impropriation,  brought  out  for  him, 
would  not  'improper'  him,  because  there  may  be  a  quirk 
in  the  word,  I  leave  it  for  a  canonist  to  resolve. — Milton^ 

And  thus  ends  this  section,  or  rather  dissection  of  him- 
self, short  ye  will  say,  both  in  breath  and  extent,  as  in  our 
own  praises  it  ought  to  be. — /rf. 

§  280.  Alliteration  is  the  use  of  several  words 
in  succession  beginning  with  tlie  same  letter ;  as,  O 
Tite,  tuta  Tati,  tibi  tanta,  tyranne,  tuliste. — Ennius. 

Then  while  the  honor  thou  hast  got 

Is  spick-and-span  new,  piping  hot. — Hudibras. 

Already  doubled  is  the  cape,  the  bay 
Receives  the  prow,  that  proudly  spurns  the  spray. 

Byron. 

Anglo-Saxon  poetry  w^as  mainly  distinguished  from  prose 
by  a  regular  alliteration.  Hence  alliteration  contmued  to 
be  a  prominent  characteristic  in  early  English  poetry.  It 
abounds  in  Spencer. 

But  direful  deadly  black  both  leaf  acd  bloom. 
Fit  to  adorn  the  dead  and  deck  the  dreary  tomb. 

She,  of  naught  afraid. 
Through  woods  and  w'steness  wide  him  daily  sought. 

"  The  lion,  lord  of  every  beast  in  field," 

Quoth  he,  ''  his  princely  puissance  doth  abate,*''  &c. 

$  281.  Words  are  symbolical  when  they  desig-- 
nate.  sensible  objects  or  scenes  which  symbolize  or 
image  forth  the  sense. 

Words  generally,  as  before  observed,  are  originally  sym- 
bolical, when  used  to  denirte  abstract  notions.     The  sensible 

object  or  scene  is  taken  as  ihe  mirror  of  the  thought  to  b« 

18* 


I      'l 


m-y;- 


il'Hi ! 


210 


ABSOLin  E    PROPKRTIKS. 


conveyed.  How  the  mind  is  enabled  to  discern  the  thought 
in  this  reflection,  whether  by  some  analogy  of  the  scene  or 
object  to  the  thought,  as,  for  instance,  a  similarity  in  the 
effect  upon  the  mind,  or  by  association  or  otherwise,  it  is 
not  necessary  hare  to  explain.  It  is  sufficient  to  note  the 
fact  that  sensible  scenes  and  objects  do  reflect  abstract 
thoughts;  and  especially  when,  as  in  language,  the  attention 
is  set  to  discern  the  thought  revealed  in  the  symbol. 

The  peculiar  force  and  beauty  imparted  to  style  by  this 
use  of  words  may  be  accounted  for,  in  part  at  least,  by 
several  distinct  considerations.  First,  this  use  of  words  is  in 
accordance  with  the  proper  nature  of  language.  Language, 
originally  and  properly,  is  not  a  mere  collection  of  arbitrary 
si<'-ns,  like  those  of  algebra,  which  in  themselves  import 
nothing.  Words  are  more  like  the  diagrams  of  geometry, 
in  which,  without  previous  explanation,  may  be  perceived 
the  truth  of  the  proposition  which  they  severally  exemplify. 
Although,  in  the  process  of  language,  it  becomes  more  and 
more  like  algebraic  signs  and  less  and  less  symbolical  and 
picture-like,  it  yet  retains  to  a  greater  or  less  extent  this 
original  characteristic;  and  so  far  as  language  is  used  in 
accordance  with  its  primitive  and  uncorrupted  nature,  it 
pleases  and  impresses. 

Secondly,  in  this  use  of  language,  the  imagination  is 
directly  addressed  and  put  in  play.  The  hearer  fixes  his  eye 
on  the  sensible  object  or  scene,  and  his  imagination  forms 
the  picture  of  the  thought.  He  thus  becomes  himself  a 
creative  artist;  and  the  forms,  to  which  his  own  inijigina- 
tion  gives  birth,  gratify  at  once  the  instinctive  dotings  of 
paternity  and  the  love  of  originating,  inherent  in  our  nature. 
Interpreting  a  mere  language  of  signs,  where  words  only 
stand  for  ideas  and  do  not  represent  them  through  sensible 
obiects,  is,  on  the  other  hand,  a  dull  exercise  of  memory 


1  the  thought 
the  scene  or 
ilarity  in  the 
her  wise,  it  is 
t  to  note  the 
fleet  abstract 
the  attention 
nibol. 

style  by  this 

at  least,  by 

of  words  is  in 

Language, 

n  of  arbitrary 

selves  import 

;  of  geometry, 

be  perceived 

Uy  exemplify. 

lies  more  and 

'mbolical  and 

ss  extent  this 

sre  is  used  in 

ted   nature,  it 

m agination  is 
?r  fixes  his  eye 
,ination  forms 
les  himself  a 
own  inijigina- 
ive  dotings  of 
in  our  nature, 
re  words  only 
rough  sensible 
se  of  memory 


SUGCiKSTIV  K    PilUlM-HTIES. 


211 


If  the  lano-unge  of  modern  civilization,  in  which  science  pre* 
vails  over  poetry,  is  more  precise,  more  exact  and  uuambigu- 
ous  it  is  yet  less  pleasing  and  less  iuipK  sive  than  the  rich 
imagery  and  life  of  earlier  dialects.  It  is  the  high  preroga- 
tive of  an  accou\plished  speaker  to  unite  the  precision  of  the 
modern  with  the  vivid  beauty  and  force  of  the  primitive 
diction. 

§  282.  Ill  the  selection  of  words  with  a  view  to  this 
beauty  of  style,  the  more  specific  arc  to  be  preferred  to 
the  more  generic. 

In  the  following  extract  from  Mr.  Sheridan's  Speech 
aoainst  Hastings,  it  will  be  ap[)arent  that,  instead  of  the  spe- 
cific  or  individual  objects  which  are  so  forcibly  presented  to 
the  mind  in  it,  and  by  which  the  sentiment  is  so  vividly 
coniniunicated,  the  whole  thought  might  be  as  fully  and 
accurately  exhibited  in  more  generic  language,  but  the  torce 
and  richness  of  the  ex[)ression  would  be  lost. 

It  is  true  he  did  not  direct  the  guards,  the  famine,  and  the 
bhulgeons;  he  did  not  weigh  the  fetters,  nor  number  the 
lashes  to  be  inflicted  on  his\'ictims:  but  3  et  he  is  equally 
cuiltv  as  if  he  had  borne  an  active  and  personal  share  in 
each  transaction. 

The  Ihoujiht  would  have  been  as  fuUv  conveyed  if  he  had 
simply  said,  "  It  is  true  he  did  not  give  out  the  orders  for  the 
arrest  and  the  torture  of  his  victims;  nor  himself  carry 
these  orders  into  execution:  but  yet,"  &c. 

§  283.  It  is  necess'iiy,  further,  in  securing  this 
property  to  style,  that  truth  to  the  actual  object  or 
scene  used  to  symbolize  the  thought,  be  strictly  ob- 
served. 

This  implies  exactness  in  the  particular  delineatioix? 
and  congruousncss  in  the  parts  of  a  complex  object. 


♦♦IB  if        '*» 

ftt'  '.'111 iiiii 


212 


ABSOLUTE    PROPEKTIF.9. 


In  the  following  extract  the  mind  labors  to  conceive  the 
representation  in  consequence  of  being  unable  to  unite  the 
incongruous  features  of  the  heterogeneous  objects  presented. 

Thou<^h  in  their  corrupt  notions  of  divine  worship,  they 
are  aptio  multiply  their  gods,  yet  this  earthly  devotion  is 
seldom  paid  to  above  one  idol  at  a  time,  whose  ear  they 
please  with  less  murmuring  and  much  more  skill  than  ^\  hen 
they  share  the  lading  or  even  hold  the  helm. 

The  following  are  examples  of  an  opposite  character  ia 

this  respect,  in  which    the  sensible  representation  is  exact 

and  congruous  throughout; 

For  truth,  I  know  not  how,  hath  this  unhappiness  fatal 
to  her,  ere  she  can  come  to  the  trial  and  inspection  of  the 
understanding:  being  to  pass  through  many  little  wards  and 
limits  of  the  several  affections  and  desires,  she  cannot  shift 
it,  but  must  put  on  such  colors  and  attire  as  those  pathetic 
handmaids  of  the  soul  please  to  lead  her  in  to  their  queen; 
and  if  s)  -)  find  so  much  favor  with  them,  they  let  her  pas3 
in  her  own  likeness;  if  not,  they  bring  iicr  into  the  presence 
habited  and  colored  like  a  notorious  falsehood.  And  con- 
trary,  when  any  falsehood  comes  that  way,  if  they  like  the 
errand  she  brings,  thev  arc  so  artful  to  counterfeit  the  very 
shape  and  visage  of  truth,  that  the  understanding,  not  being 
able  to  discern  the  fucus  which  these  enchantresses  with 
such  cunning  have  laid  upon  the  features  sometimes  of  truth, 
sometimes  of  falsehood  interchangeably,  sentences  for  the 
most  part  one  for  the  other  at  the  iirst  blush,  according  to 
the  subtle  imposture  of  these  sensual  mistresses  that  keep  the 
ports  and  passages  between  her  and  the  object.— Mil  ton. 

So  is  the  imperfect,  unfinished  spirit  of  a  man.  It  lays 
the  foundation  of  a  holy  resolution,  and  strengthens  it  Mith 
vows  and  arts  of  persecution;  it  raises  up  the  walls,— 
sacraments,  and  prayers,  reading  and  holy  ordinances. 
And  hulv  actions  begin  uith  a  slow  motion,  and  the  builcl- 
iug  stavs,  and  the  spirit  is  weury,  and  the  soul  is  naked  and 
exposed  to  temptation,  .-jud  in  tiie  days  of  storm  takes  in 
every  thing  that  ..an  do  ii  [r.i..chiri  ;  nnd  it  is  faint  and  sick, 


GRAM.MAllCAL     PRi)Hl,  KTl  KS. 


213 


to  conceive  the 
)le  to  unite  the 
ijects  presented. 

e  worship,  they 
:lily  devt)ti()n  is 
^vhose  ear  ihey 
skill  than  when 

ite  character  ia 
itation  is  exact 


ihappiness  fatal 
nspection  of  the 
little  wards  and 
she  cannot  shift 
s  those  pathetic 

to  their  queen; 
hey  let  her  pass 
ato  the  presence 
jod.     And  cou" 

if  they  like  the 
iterfeit  the  very 
Kling,  not  being 
■hantresses  with 
letimes  of  truth, 
jntences  for  the 
sh,  according  to 
ses  that  keep  the 
ect. — Milfoil. 

a  man.  It  lays 
engthens  it  M-ith 
jp  the  walls,— 
loly  ordinances. 
I,  and  the  build- 
aul  is  naked  and 
storm  takes  in 
is  faint  and  sick, 


listless  and  tired,  and  it  stands  till  its  own  weight  wearies 
the  foundation^  and  then  declines  to  death  and  sad  disorder. 

./.  Taylor. 

Nor  in  our  prosperity,  our  affluence  of  good  things,  our 
possession  of  common,  should  we  be  unmindful  of  him  w  ho 
relieved  us  in  our  straits,  who  supplied  our  wants,  sustained 
our  adversity,  who  redeemed  us  from  Egypt,  and  led  us 
through  the  wilderness.  A  succession  of  new  and  fresh  be- 
neiits  should  not,  as  among  some  savages  the  manner  is  for 
the  young  to  make  away  the  old,  supplant  and  expunge 
ancient  ones,  but  make  them  rather  more  dear  and  venerable 
to  us.  Time  should  not  weaken  or  diminish,  but  rather 
confirm  and  radicate  in  us  the  remembrance  of  God's  good- 
ness; to  render  it,  as  it  doth  gold  and  silver,  more  precious 
and  more  strong. — Barrow^s  Sermons. 


CHAPTER  VIIT. 

OF   THE  GRAMMATICAL   PROPERTIES    OP  STYLE. 

§  284.  The  grammatical  properties  of  style  may  be 
distributed  into  three  species,  according  as  they  respect 
the  forms  of  tvords,  their  connection,  or  their  mean' 

The  departments  of  grammar  which  respectively  treat  of 
these  several  species  are  Etymology,  Syntax,  and  Lexico- 
graphy. Etymology  presides  over  the  words  introduced 
into  the  language  and  the  forms  which  they  take;  syntax, 
over  the  arrangement  and  relations  of  words;  and  lexico- 
graphy assigns  to  tl'irr  their  meaning.  The  several  species 
of  the  grammatical  pr'^psrties  of  style  are  founded,  accord- 
ingly, on  these  departments  of  grammar,  and  derive  from 
^^c:e  their  regulative  nrinciples. 


>.W*'l  \     t        I 


,f        :|ii' 


rm 


„lt1 


J?l' 


ABsoi  I  ri;   i'iU)Pi:.rrii:a. 


fixed  and 


Inasnuc^.  as  I'lese  pTPionuitical  » rincipli-s  are 
imperative,  the  cibservaine  if  them  in  st\  le  is  indispensable. 
Hence  it  is  mor^  convenient  lo  consider  these  properties  iu 
fheir  negativ3  aspect;  and  to  exhibit  them  not  in  the  I'orms 
in  which,  as  observed,  they  impart  beauty  to  discourse,  but 
ill  \vhich,  as   they  are  disregarded,  the  discourse  becomes 

thereby  I'aulty. 

Before  illustrating  the  several  faults  against  grammatical 
purity  in  style,  it  becomes  necessary  to  ascertain  the  stau- 
dard  of  purity.  Numerous  and  weighty  authorities  deter- 
mine this  to  be  good  use.     The  language  of  Horace  is: 

Usus 

Quem  penes  arbitrium  est  et  jus  et  norma  loquendi. 

Quintilian  only  says  use  is  the  most  certain  rule:  Cer 
tissima  regula  in  consuetudine. 

Dr.  Campbell  is  earnest  in  maintaining  that  use  is  neces- 
sarily  the  sole  criterion. 

It  has  been  before  observed,  §  246,  that  grammatical 
science  is  either  abstract  or  historical.  The  laws  of  thought, 
on  the  one  hand,  and  the  laws  of  articulate  sounds,  on  the 
other,  impose  certain  necessary  conditions  on  the  formation 
of  language.  These  laws  being  given,  it  may  be  detemiiu. 
ed  beforehand,  to  a  certain  extent,  what  must  be  the  pro- 
parties  of  language,  or,  in  other  words,  the  principles  of 
grammar.  No  use  can  be  characterised  as  good  that  vio- 
lates  these  universal  principles  of  language. 

But,  again,  there  is  such  a  thing  as  grammatical  science, 
regarded  as  historical,  and  founded  on  inductive  grounds. 
There  are  in  every  language  certain  general  laws  which 
control  and  regulate  its  development.  There  are  general 
principles  of  etymology  and  syntax;  violations  of  which 
must  be  regarded  as  faults.  It  is  true  that  sometime! 
the  difl'erent  principles  that  preside  over   the  formation  o' 


GRAMMATICAr.    FUOf  KItTIES. 


215 


that  use  is  neces- 


language  come  in  collision  with  one  another,  and  thaa 
grammatical  rules  frequently  iiave  exceptions.  The  prin- 
ciples of  euphony,  thus,  frecjuenlly,  occasion  deviations  from 
the  common  laws  of  derivation.  So,  likewise,  more  pur'^ly 
rhetorical  or  logical  principles  modify  the  operation  of  pro- 
per grammatical  rules.  Such  exceptions  are  not,  hewtver^ 
properly  violations  of  the  laws  of  language.  Now  no  "use" 
can  be  allowed  to  transgress  these  general  principles.  If 
grammatical  monstrosities  by  any  mishap  exist,  a  correct 
taste  will  shu'i  them,  as  it  does  physical  deformities  in  the 
arts  of  design. 

Back  then  of  use  we  have  both  the  abstract  principles  of 
universal  language,  and  also  the  inductive  principles  of  par- 
ticular languages,  as  guides  and  criteria  of  grammatical 
purity.     By  tliese  principles  use  itself  must  be  tried. 

Good  use  is,  therefore,  only  a  proximate  and  presump- 
tive test  oi"  purity.  While  generally  its  decisions  are  authori- 
tative, they  admit,  in  their  nature,  of  being  questioned,  and 
must  themselves  submit  to  higher  authority.  The  expres- 
.  sions  "  nowadays  "  and  "  had  have  gone  "  have  all  the  pre^ 
scribed  characteristics  of  good  use;  "reputable,  national, 
and  present."  No  one  can  rationally  deny,  however,  that 
in  elevated  discourse  at  least  one  is  a  barbarism  and  the 
other  a  solecism.  We  may  accordingly  lay  down  the  prin- 
ciple which  regulates  this  matter  as  it  is  expressed  in  the 
following  section. 

§  285.  The  standard  ©f  grammatical  purity 
is  to  be  found  proximately  in  good  use  ;  but  ultimately 
in  the  fixed  principles  of  grammatical  science,  that  is. 
in  the  principles  of  etymology,  syntrx,  and  lexicog- 
raphy. 

§  286.  That  use  alone  is  to  be  regarded  as  good 


i; ;  , 


l!:^rj;:34'*-r3'r   k!-'      MB 


'    I 


21G 


AnsOLlITK     PROFKIiriKS. 


which  possesses  (he  foUowinq- characteristics,  viz:  that 
it  is  national,  as  opposed  to  provincial  and  technical ; 
reputable,  or  sanctioned  by  the  best  authors;  and 
present,  as  opposed  to  what  is  obsolete. 

$  287.  Oflenses  against  grammatical  purity  may  be 
distributed  in  reference  to  their  occasions  into  the  fol- 
lowing species,  viz  : 

1.  Archaism,  or  obsolete  use ; 

2.  Provincialism,  or  the  use  of  what  is  not  national, 
or  confined  to  a  district  or  province  ; 

2.  Idiotism,  or  the  use  whicli  is  confined  to  an  indi- 
/idual ; 

4.  Technicality,  or  use  peculiar  to  a  sect  or  trade  ; 

5.  Alienism,  or  use  derived  from  a  foreign  language. 
It  is  to  be  remarked  that  eacli  of  these  species  includes 

.ffenses  against  all  the  departments  of  grammar,  whether 
sitymology,  syntax,  or  lexicography.  An  archaism,  thus, 
may  either  be  a  barbarism,  solecism,  or  impropriety. 

$  288.  A  fault  in  respect  to  the  settled  forms  of 
words,  that  is,  ?n  offense  against  the  etymology  of  a 
language,  is  denominated  a  Barbarism. 

$  289.  A  barbarism  may  lie  in  the  use  of  a  radical 
word  not  sanctioned  by  the  etymology  of  a  language ; 
or  in  an  unauthorized  mode  of  deriving,  infiecting,  or 
compounding  words. 

Tlie  English  language  admits  more  freely  the  introduc- 
tion of  new  radical  words  than  most  other  languages. 
Words  of  Latin  or  Greek  origin  it  receives  without  hesi- 
tancy,* and  subjects  them  in  the  process  of  naturalizing  to 
but  trifling  modifications.  So  common  has  this  adulteration 
of  the  language  been,  that  a  barbarism  of  this  species  h 


GRAMMATICAL    PR0PEIITIE3. 


217 


hardly  reckoned  a  fault,  and  the  preservation  of  a  pure 
Ang  u^axon  style  has  consequently  become  a  positive 
excellence.  f     "»o 

The  follo^ving  are  barbarisms  in  respect  to  the  use  of 
words  not  authorized:  approbate,  eventuate,  heft,  jeopar- 
dize,  missionate,  preventative,  reluctate,  repetitious,  peek 
for  peep,  numcrositj,  effluxion,  inchoation,  anon,  behove, 
erewhile,  whenas,  peradventure,  obligate,  memorize,  bating, 
pending,  hearken. 

Barbarisms  in  inflection :  Stricken*  for  struck,  Let  for 
heated,  pled  for  pleaded,  lit  for  lighted,  provenf  for  proved, 
had  nt  ought  for  ought  not,  had  rather  have  gone  for  would 
rather  have  gone,  have  drank  for  have  drunk,  have  began 

Barbarisms  in  derivation :  Deputize,  happifv,  firstly  for 
first,  illy  for  ill.  '' 

Barbarisms  in  comj>ound  words:  SidehiUJ  for  hill-side 
sundown  t  for  sunset,  feUow-countiymen  for  countrymen! 
selfsame.  ' 


MISCELLANEOUS    EXAMPLES. 

U^^'-)  '?"l*  Pliilosophers,  not  considering  so  well  as  I 
ha  e  mistook  to  be  different  in  their  oauses.-is««/r         ' 

J  ^«««<^  "^  Many  words  are   admiasible  in  poetry  which  mJt 
be  prononnced  barbarisms  in  prose.  ^ 

f  Technical  use. 

I  CoUoqqi.'.i  nse. 

19 


1 

1 

! 
1 

1  1 
i 

1 

w 


I'  I' 


'I'  '  I 


I   I  I 

'  I 


'^9 

m 

! 

--'H 

m^^ 

tmi           ': 

^i^^^i 

Hli 

m'' ' 

fl 

^B 

iMi 

I^^^H 

■■ 

mi 

'  ^I^^^H 

P 

■ 

218 


ABSOLUTF.  PROPERTIES. 


The  l>«»te«r  of  Florin  w.,  very  dingraciou,,  «ml  .li»g«.t. 
ed  bolh  liis  friends  and  strangers. 

«  o,)„  V  fault  in  rcsp=ct  to  the  settle.!  urrangemeRl 
or  ccltmction  of  words  in  a  sentence  or  an  olense 
r^aLt  tUe  syntax  of  a  langtutge  is  deuomtnated  a 

Solecism. 

It  is  obvious  from  the  definition  that  a  solecism  may  be 
con  n  itted  in  respect  to  any  one  of  the  various  principl 
of  syntax.     The    following  will  suffice  as  exemphhcations 
under  the  more  generic  heads:  p^treme  » 

1.  In   the    ^<se    of  adjectives:^  « the   most   extreme, 
«  most  straitest,"  "more  preferable." 

2.  In  the  use  of  nouns  and  pronouns: 

a.  In  concord;  "Each  will  observe  their  turn      for  b 
turn";   "If  any  one  transgresses,  let  them  be,     &c., 
Smith's  the  bookseller/'  ^^ 

i.  In  government;  "  I  supposed  it  to  be  he,     for      to  be 

him." 

3.  In  the  tise  of  verbs: 

a.  In  concord;  "The  amount  of  all  the  expoauures^and 
disbursements  far  exceed,"  &c.;  "He  dare  no  do  .t, 
«  dares  •"  "  Would  to  God,"  for  "  Would  God. 

4.  /,;  the  «»e  of  conjuncHr,s.  including  conjuncUon. 
nroper  and  relatives. 

^  <<Be  told  the  same  story  as  you,"  for  <Uhat  you   j 
«  Equally  as,"  for  "  equally  u)ith  ";                    ^^ 
"Neither  flatter  or  contemn  the  rich,''  for     nor    , 
^No  more  is  meant  but  that,"  for  «  than"^ 

improper   imitation    of  the    French    expression    .  ^^^^ J^^^. 
«  Would  God,"  as  equivalent  to  «  I  wish,  or  pray,  tliat  God  woulO, 
u  tVie  nreferable  form. 


C,  R  A  M  M  AT  I  ( •  M,    P  It  O  F  LI  III'  1 1:  S. 


219 


"Persons  will  not  believe  but  ivhat"  for  "but  that*'} 

"Solomon,  the  son  of  David,  who  built  the  temple." 

«J    it^  the  use  of  p rep os it io n s :  * 

''  £]ie  is  free  «/pain/'  for  "from  pain"; 

*' In  pursuance  io  the**; 

«  By  the  observing  these  precepts,"  for  "o/ these  precepts.' 

6,  lit  the  use  of  adverbs: 

Second,  tiiird,  &c.,  for  secondly,  thirdly,  &c. 


MISCELLANEOUS    EXAMPLES. 

Removinjr  the  term  from  Westminster,  sitting  the  Par- 
liament, was  illegal. —  Macau  la  i/. 

We  need  not,  nor  do  not,  confine  the  purposes  of  God. 

Bently. 

I  shall  endeavor  to  live  hereafter  suitable  to  a  man  in  my 
station. — Addison, 

He  behaved  himself  conformable  to  that  blessed  example. 

Sprat. 

I  can  never  think  so  very  mean  of  him. — Bently. 

The  chiefest  of  which  w  as  known  by  the  name  of  Archon 
among  the  Grecians — Drijdcn. 

The  author  is  informed,  that  the  bookseller  has  prevailed 
on  several  gentlemen  to  write  some  explanatory  notes,  for 
the  goodness  of  whirh  he  is  not  to  answer,  having  never 
seen  any  of  them,  nor  intends  it,  till  thev  appear  in  print. 

Swift. 

Nor  is  it  then  a  w^elcome  guest,  afTording  only  an  uneasy 
sensation,  and  brings  always  with  it  a  mixture  of  concern 
and  compassion. — Fielding. 

Base,  ungrateful  boy!  miserable  as  I  am,  yet  I  cannot 
cease  to  love  thee.  My  love  even  now  speaks  in  my  resent- 
ment. I  am  still  your  father,  nor  can  your  usage  form  my 
heart  anew. — Goldsmith, 


*  i'or  other  examples,  see  under  improprieliea.  Reuurded  in  one 
light  these  faulta  are  Bolocisms ;  in  other  words,  one  view  of  language 
would  place  them  in  the  s/ncy-a  of  eyntax;  another,  in  the  sphere  of 
lexicography. 


220 


ABSOLUTK    PllOPERTIKS. 


But  the  temper,  as  well  as  knowledge,  of  a  modern  Insto- 
rian  e guire  aL..-e  sober  and  ten^perate  language.-6.W.o.. 
"Nele  death  uor  turtu.e  u ere  sufficient  to  subdue  the 
minds  of  CargiU  and  his  intrepid  tullovvers.-i'(>x. 

Each  of  th^se  words  imply  some  pursuit  or  object  relm- 

^""ixif 'observable  that  every  one  of   the  letters  bear  date 
after  his  banishment.— i^««f/y-  •    •,. 

Magnus,  with  four  thousand  of  his  supposed  accomplices, 

ivpre  uut  to  death. — Gibbon.  ^  ^  •  •        i 

The^s"  feasts  were  celebrated  to  the  honor  of  Osiris,  whom 
the  Greeks  called  Dionysius,  and  is  the  same  with  Bacchus. 

Whether  one  person  or  more  was  concerned  in  the  bus- 
iness was  not  ascertained.  ^      ,^  ^  ,,.„pnnnrfl 
Those  sort  of  favors  do  real  injury  under  the  appearance 

°^  fii-ery 'pmon,  whatever  be  their  station,  is  bound  by  the 
duties  of  morality  and  religion. 

He  dare  not  do  it  at  present,  and  he  need  not. 

Whether  he  will  or  no,  I  care  not. 

We  do  those  things  frequently  that  we  rci)ent  ot  alter- 

""  Many  persons  will  not   believe  but  what  they  are  free 
from  prejudices.  .  , 

One  of  his  clients,  who  was  more  merry  than  wise,  stole 
it  from  him  one  day  in  the  midst  of  his  pleading;  but  he 
had  better  have  let  it  alone,  for  he  lost  his  ^^^^^^J^jj^^^^f  ^• 

T  am  equally  an  enemy  to  a  female  dunce  or  a  female 
nedant. — Ooldsmith.  ,     , 

Kin-  Charles,  and  more  than  hiin,  the  duke  and  the 
Popisl?  faction,  were  at  liberty  to  form  new  schemes.— «o- 

linabroke.  .     ^         ,.  ^ 

The  drift  of  all  his  sermons  was,  to  piepare  the  Jews  tor 
the  reception  of  a  propiiet,  mightier  than  him,  and  whose 
shoes  he  was  not  worthy  to  hear.-Atterbury. 

He  whom  ve  pretend  reigns  in   heaven,  is  so  far  tron 
nrotecting  the'  miserable  sons  of  men,  that  he  perpetually 
Seliffhts  to  blast  the  sweetest  Howers  in  the  garden  of  Hope. 


GRAMMATICAL    PROPERTIES. 


221 


Neither  of  them  are  remarkable  for  precision. — Blair, 

In  proportion  as  either  of  these  two  qualities  are  wanting, 
the  language  is  imperfect. — Addison, 

I  had  no  sooner  drank  than  I  found  a  pimple  rising  in  my 
iorehead.—  Tatlpr. 

In  this  respect,  the  seeds  of  future  divisions  were  sowed 
abundantly. — Lyttleton. 

A  free  constitution,  when  it  has  been  shook  by  the  ini-« 
quity  of  former  administrations. — Bolingbroke. 

A  large  part  of  the  meadows  and  cornfields  was  over- 
flown. 

He  was  early  charged  by  Asinius  Pollio  as  neither  faith- 
ful or  exact. — Ledwick. 

He  was  persuaded  to  strenuously  prosecute  the  great  en- 
terprises ol  the  company. 

§  201.  A  fault  in  regai'd  to  the  settled  meaning  of 
words,  that  is,  an  offense  against  the  lexicography  of 
a  language,  is  denominated  an  Impropriety. 

$  292.  Improprieties  are  either  in  single  words  or  in 
phrases. 


I.  Improprieties  in  Single  Words. 

1.   Adjectives. 

"  The  alone  principle/'  for  "  the  sole  principle.** 

**  A  likely  boy,"  for  "  promising." 

**  This  wilderness  world." 

"  He  did  not  injure  him  any,"  for  "  at  all." 

"  The  work  was  incident  to  decay,"  for  "  liable.* 

*^  He  is  considerable  hQiier.^^ 

**  He  is  considerable  of  a  man." 

"  Such  words  were  derogatory,'"  for  "  degrading.* 

"  Obnoxious  doctrines,"  for  "  hurtful  doctrines.* 

2.  Nouns  and  Pronouns^ 

■Mean"  for  "means." 

•The  observation  of  the  rule,"  for  "the  observance,* 
•  He  was  in  a  tem-ptr,'"  for  "  bad  temper  "  or  "  passion.' 
"  The  balance  of  them,"  for  "  remainder  " 

19* 


I"i 


(* 


222 


ABSOLUTE    PROPERTIES. 


«  At  a  wide  remove-,''  for  «  distance."    ^ 
«  In  community,"  lor  «  <Ae  community 
«  The  works  of  Deity,"  lor"  of  ^Ae  Deity. 

3.    Verbs. 
« I  «rfm/re  to  liear,"  for  « I  like  to  hear." 
«I  arf/n/re  that  he  should  do  it,"  "J  wonder,    &c. 
«  T  gr»e6'/  he  did  it,"  for  "  suspect.         „    , ,  ^  ,,       , . 
«  HeXes  iot  /.llo^iship  with  him  "  for  "hold  fellowship. 
« I  /.ar«e;(i  him  the  lesson,"  for  "I  taught.      ^ 
«  He  was  raised  in  Cirina,"  for  "  brought  up.     ^ 
«Mr.  L.  sMpp^^'erf  at  Kingston,"  lor    ^preached. 
«  They  calculate  to  go,"  for  "^  uitend. 
«  There  let  him  lay,''  for  "lie.'  ^ 

«  The  council  was  setting," Joy     sitting. 
**  To  fall  trees,  for  "  to  lell." 
«  I  rec^07t  he  did." 

«  He  condticts  well,"  for  «  conducts  himselt. 
"  It  was  predicated  on  other  grounds. 
"  The  work  progresses  rapidly." 

«  Such  doctrines  revolt  us."  „ 

"The  proceedings  of  the  cabinet  have  not  transptreU, 
for  "been  made  public."  ^ 

«  Property  appreciates,"  for  "  rises  in  value. 

4.  Conjunctiotis  and  Adverbs. 

''Like  he  did,"  for  "as  he  did."        „  ^     „  , 

^Directly  they  came,  I  went  away,"  for    as  soon  U. 
"He  was  quite  sick,"  for  "very." 
"I  feel  as  though,"  for  "  if." 
"Equally  aj  well,"  for  "equally^  well. 
^As  old  or  older  than  tradition." 

6.  Prepositions, 

** Averse  from,"  instead  of  "averse  to.* 
"In  comparison  to,"  for  "with.J 
"In  accordance  to,"  for  "with.^ 
"Militate  with,"  for  "against." 
"Confide  on,"  for  "in." 
"Independent  on,"  for  "of." 
**  Worthy,"   for  "worthy  of." 
*Diffei  with"  for  "from." 


GRAMMATICAL    PROPERTIES. 


223 


II.  Improprieties  in  Phrases. 

Celebrates  the  church  of  England  as  the  most  perfect  of 
all  others. 

I  had  like  to  have  gotten  one  or  two  broken  heads. 


miscellaneous  examples. 

The  only  actions  to  which  we  have  always  seen^,  and  still 
see  all  of  them  intent,  are  such  as  tend  to  the  destruction  of 
one  another. —  Burke. 

To  which,  as  Bishop  Burnet  tells  us,  the  Prince  of  Orange 
was  willing  to  comply. — Bolingbroke. 

The   discovery    he    made    and    communicated  with   his 
lends. — Swift. 

The  people  being  only  convoked  upon  such  occasions, 
us,  by  this  institution  of  Romulus,  fell  into  their  cogniz- 
ance.— Id. 

The  wisest  princes  need  not  think  it  any  diminution  to 
tlieir  greatness  or  derogation  to  their  sufficiency  to  rely 
upon  counsel. — Bacon's  Essays. 

The  esteem  which  Philip  had  conceived  of  the  embassa- 
dor.— Hume. 

The  christians  were  driven  out  of  all  their  Asatic  posess- 
ions,  in  acquiring  of  which  incredible  numbers  of  men  had 
perished. — Robertson. 

I  d  (  likewise  dissent  with  the  Examiner. — Addison. 

Ur.  Johiison,  with  whom  I  am  sorry  to  differ  in  opinion, 
has  treated  it  as  a  work  of  merit. — Scott. 

The  memory  of  Lord  Peter's  injuries  produced  a  degree 
of  hatred  and  spite,  which  had  a  much  greater  share  of  iu- 
citiag-  him, than  regards  after  his  father-'s  commands. — Siuift. 

Von  stand  to  liim  in  the  relation  of  a  son;  of  conse- 
(jue  iCe  \  ou  should  obey  him. 

It  is  no  more  but  his  due. 

Tlie  ship  la}s  in  tlie  harbor. 

He  will  become  enamored  for  virtus  and  patriotism,  and 
acquire  a  detestation  ot"  vice,  cruelty,  and  corruption. — Gold' 
smith. 

Having  been  for  a  fortnight  together,  they  at©  then 
mi^Hy  good  company  to  be  sure. — Id, 


224 


ABSOLUTE    PRCVPEUTIES. 


Now  the  difference  between  one  audience  and  anothsr  is 
very  ereat,  not  only  in  intellectual,  but  in  moral  attainments. 
It  may  be  clearly  intelligible  to  a  House  of  Connnons,  which 
would  appear  as  if  spoken  in  an  unknown  tongue  to  a  con- 
venticle of  enthusiasts.  It  may  kindle  fury  in  the  la  tor, 
what  would  create  no  emotion  in  the  former,  but  laughtei 
and  contempt. — Campbell,  ,^  -     i      j        1 1 

This  effect,  we  may  safely  say,  no  one  beforehand  could 
have  promised  upon. — Hume. 


PART  II.-SUBJECTIVE  PROPERTIES, 


CHAPTER  I. 

GENERAL    VIEW. 

§  293.  The  subjective  properties  of  style  are  those 
which  are  determined  to  discourse  by  the  mental  con- 
dition of  the  speaker.  §  244. 

Speech  is  the  expression  of  thought,  not  as  abstract  and, 
so  to  speak,  separate  from  the  thinking  mind,  not  of  mere 
truth  or  of  ideas,  but  rather  of  the  thinking  states  of  the 
living  speaker.  Just  so  far  as  it  becomes  the  mere  repre- 
sentative of  abstract  propositions,  it  sinks  from  its  proper 
character  and  elevation.  Ca  the  other  hand,  jul^  so  far  as 
it  is  an  expression  of  the  thinking  mind  itself,  partaking  of 
its  individual  life  and  glow,  it  fulfils  more  perfectly  its 
proper  object,  and  consequently  is  more  pleasing  and  more 
impressive. 

§  294.  The  mental  condition  of  the  speaker  is  de- 
termined by  the  natural  and  acquired  characteristics 
of  his  own  mind,  whether  common  to  all  mmd  or  pe- 
culiar to  individuals ; 

By  his  physical  structure  and  habits; 

By  the  relations  which  he  sustains  to  those  whom 
he  addresses ;  and, 


226 


SUDJECTIVP:    PROPERTIES. 


¥*>'ki'l 


■>8,.- 


By  the  particular  subject  and  occasion  of  his  dis- 
course. 

Mind  has  properties  as  mind ;  and  discourse  as  *he  ex* 
pression  of  mind  must  exhibit,  more  or  less,  these  properties. 
There  are  only  two,  however,  which  demand  particular  con- 
sideration here.  They  are  these; — that  mind  is  a  thinking 
substance;  and  that  it  thinks  continuously. 

The  analogies  of  external  nature,  ever  multifarious  and 
diverse,  lead  us  at  once  to  the  conjecture  that  there  are  also 
native  idiosyncracies  of  mind;  that  each  thinking,  hke  each 
material  existence,  has  peculiarities  of  its  own.  At  all 
events,  in  the  development  of  mind  under  diverse  influences, 
there  arises  a  great  diversity  of  mental  habits. 

The  physical  structure  has  its  influence,  not  only  in 
determining  the  mental  habits  and  modes  of  thought 
generally,  but,  also,  particularly  in  the  framing  of  thought 
for  expression.  A  narrow  chest  and  weak  lungs  reject  long 
periods  and  vehement  harangue. 

Farther,  the  professional  standing  and  official  charac- 
ter of  the  speaker  should  be  regarded  in  style.  There  is  a 
proper  dimity  belonging  to  the  pulpit;  and  the  elevated 
and  commanding  tones  of  the  general  would  be  ludicrous 
in  the  familiar  discourse  of  colloquial  equality. 

The  subject,  likewise,  and  the  occasion  generally  of  the 
discourse  naturally  impress  themselves  on  the  mind  of  the 
speaker  and  leave  on  it  their  own  peculiar  characters.  The 
style,  consequently,  ever  shaping  itself  by  the  state  of  the 
speaker's  mind,  at  the  time,  is  modified  by  these  outward 
circumstances. 

§  295.  The  subjective  properties  of  style  include 
those  of  Significance,  Continuousness,  and  Nat- 
uralness. 


SfGNIKICANCE. 


227 


The  two  first  of  these  properties  are  founded  on  the  na- 
ture of  mind  itself.  Su  far  as  discourse  is  au  expression  of 
mind,  it  must  be  si^n,ilicant  or  expressive  of  thought. 

Thought,  moreover,  is  continuous.  Tije  mind,\nd  more 
especially  wh.-n  cultivated  and  disciplined,  does  not  act  by 
sudden  impulses  in  irregular,  disconnected  thoughts:  the 
unity  of  its  aim  imposes  on  its  movements  the  character  of 
progressiveness  and  consecutiveness. 

The  property  of  naturalness  is  founded  on  the  individuality 
of  thought  as  the  product  of  one  distinct  mind  peculiar  in 
its  native  structure  and  its  acquired  habits,  and  influenced 
in  its  action  by  peculiar  circumstances  of  place  and  time. 


CHAPTER  II. 

SIGNIFICANCE    IN   STYLE. 

§  296.  Significance  in  style  implies  two  things : 
Fiist,  Tliat  the  speaker  have  some  thought  to  com- 
municate ;  and 

Seconilly,  That  the  words  employed  actually  ex- 
press some  moaning. 

Sometimes  a  speaker  has  no  desire  to  communicate  any 
thought;  but  speaks  for  some  other  object,  as  to  occupy  time, 
or  amuse  or  astonish  his  audience.  This  kind  of  discourse 
has  been  denominated  ^spurious  oratory,^'' 

It  sometimes  happens,  moreover,  that  through  mere  vaffue- 
ness  or  vacuity  of  thought  a  speaker  or  writer  will  use  the 
forms  of  speech  Avith  no  thought  or  sentiment  expressed  in 
them.     This  kind  of  style  is  termed  "M<?  nonsensical. 

$  297.  Si'uitioirs  OiiATORy  or  JUo-nse  in  wliicli  the 


1. 1^ 


U.3. 


228 


SUBJECTIVE    PROPERTIES. 


Speaker  does  not  design  to  communicate  any  thought, 
is,  either, 

For  the  purpose  of  appearing  to  say  something  : 

For  occupying  time ;  or 

For  entertaining  his  audience  with  words  of  lofty 
pretensions,  but  of  no  significancy. 

The  first  species  named  is  a  kind  of  verbal  or  rhetorical 
flophistry,  in  which  want  of  argument  is  disguised  under  the 
mere  dress  of  words. 

The  second  is  very  common  in  deliberative  bodies  where, 
to  prevent  immediate  action  and  delay  a  decision,  a  speaker 
occupies  the  attention  of  the  vc'sembly  with  the  show  of  di»< 
cussion. 

The  third  is  a  species  of  rhetorical  jugglery,  and  some- 
times appears  even  in  parts  of  grave  and  serious  discourse, 
when  vanity  and  love  of  applause,  or  perhaps  a  worse  prin- 
ciple, lead  to  a  sacrifice  of  the  high  end  of  speaking  to  the 
gratiiication  of  a  low  pei^onal  feeling. 

$  298.  The  nonsensica:,  in  style  proceeds  from 
vacuity  of  thought.  The  various  species  of  it  are  the 
puerile,  the  learned,  the  profound,  and  the  marvsloits. 

Dr.  Campbell,  in  his  Philosophy  of  Rhetoric,  has  ably 
treated  of  this  part  of  style;  and  has  indicated  at  length  the 
causes  of  it.  The  species  enumerated  are  those  describe(' 
in  his  work.     The  followii>g  extracts  will  exemplify  them 

1.  The  Puerile.  If  'tis  asked  whence  arises  this  hai 
mony  or  beauty  of  language?  The  answer  is  obvious 
Whatever  renders  a  period  sweet  and  pleasant  makes  it  als< 
graceful:  a  good  ear  is  the  gift  of  nature;  it  may  be  mucb 
improved  but  not  acquired  by  art.  Whoever  is  possesseo 
of  it  will  scarcely  need  dry  critical  precepts  to  enable  hiro 
to  judge  of  a  true  rhythmus,  and  melody  of  composition 
Just  numbers,  accurate  proportions,  a  musical  symphony 


SKiMFICAN'CE. 


229 


magnificent  figures,  and  tliat  decorum  which  is  the  result 
of  all  these,  are  «W2.von  to  the  human  mind;  we  are  so 
framed  by  nature,  tliat  their  charm  is  irresistible.  Hence 
all  ages  and  nations  have  been  smit  with  the  love  of  the 
muses. — Geddes  on  the  Compositioti  of  the  Ancients, 

The  cadence  comprehends  that  poetical  style  which  ani- 
mates every  line,  that  propriety  which  gives  strength  and 
expression,  that  uumerosity  which  renders  the  verse  smooth, 
flowing  and  harmonious,  that  significancy  which  marks  the 
passions,  and  in  many  cases  makes  the  sound  an  echo  to  the 
sense. — Goldsmith. 

2.  The  Learned.  Although  we  read  of  several  properties 
attributed  to  God  in  Scripture,  as  wisdom,  goodness,  justice, 
&c.,  we  must  not  apprehend  them  to  be  several  powers, 
habits,  or  qualities,  as  they  are  iu  us;  for  as  they  are  in 
God,  they  are  neither  distinguished  from  one  another,  nor 
from  his  nature  or  essence  in  whom  they  are  said  to  be. 
In  whom  they  are  said  to  be;  for,  to  speak  properly,  they 
are  not  in  him,  but  are  his  very  essence  or  nature  itself; 
which  acting  severally  upon  several  objects,  seems  to  us  to 
act  from  several  properties  or  perfections  in  him;  whereas, 
all  the  difference  is  only  in  our  different  apprehensions  of 
»he  same  thing  God  in  himself  is  a  most  simple  and  pure 
act,  and  therefore  cannot  have  any  thing  in  him,  but  what 
is  that  most  simple  and  pure  act  itself. —  Beveridge's  Ser- 
mons. 

3.  The  Profound.  'Tis  agreed  that  in  all  governments 
there  is  an  absolute  and  unlimited  power,  which  naturally 
and  originally  seems  to  be  placed  in  the  whole  body  wher- 
ever the  executive  part  of  it  lies.  This  holds  in  the  body 
natural;  for  wherever  we  place  the  begining  of  motion^ 
whether  from  the  head,  or  the  heart,  or  the  animal  spirits  in 
general,  the  body  moves  and  acts  by  a  consent  of  all  its 
parts. — Swift. 

4.  The  Marvelous.  Nature  in  herself  is  unseemly,  and 
he  who  copies  her  servilely  and  without  artifice,  will 
always  produce  something  poor  and  of  a  mean  taste.  What 
is  called  loads  in  colors  and  lights  can  only  proceed  from  a 
profound  kuovvledg    in  the  values  of   colors,  and  from   an 

20 


)      '  I.     !      ! 


230 


SUBJECTIVE    PROPERTIES. 


. .  H      1  I     i  11 


bcinKii    ) 


ftdmirable  industry  which  makes  the  painted  objects  appeal 
more  true,  if  J  may  say  so,  than  the  real  ones.  In  this 
sense  it  may  be  asserted,  that  in  Reubens'  pieces,  art  is 
above  nature,  and  nature  only  a  copy  of  that  great  master's 
works. — Dr,  Piles. 

The  nonsensical  appears  not  unfrequently  in  translations 
in  which  the  words  and  grammatical  construction  of  the 
original  are  followed  only  in  respect  to  the  form;  and  t he- 
particular  thought  of  the  author  escapes  attention. 

The  following  will  serve  for  illustration: 

Let  Rhetoric  therefore  be  a  power  or  faculty  to  consider 
in  every  subject  what  is  therein  contained  proper  to  persuade. 

This  sentence  extracted  from  a  translation  of  Aristotle's 
Rhetoric  by  the  translators  of  the  Art  of  Thinking,  conveys 
no  meaning.  Rhetoric  is  not  a  power  or  faculty  to  consider 
in  any  sense  that  can  be  attached  to  the  expression;  and  we 
can  form  no  notion  of  what  it  is  to  **  consider  in  a  subject 
what  is  contained  in  it." 

The  following,  is  another  extract  from  the  same  work 
which  is  liable  to  the  same  censure: 

Wherefore  also  Rhetoric  seems  to  personate  politics;  and 
they  who  challenge  the  knowledge  of  if,  claim  that  know- 
ledge partly  through  ignorance,  partly  through  arrogance, 
and  partly  upon  other  human  reasons;  for  it  is  a  kind 
of  particle  and  similitude  of  logic,  as  we  have  said  in  the 
beginning. 


CHAPTER  III. 

OP   CONTINUOUSNESS    IN   STYLE. 

§  299.  CoNTiNuousNESs  is  that  property  of  style 

which  represents  the  thought  as  connected  and  flowing 

All  thought  in  a  cultivated  and  disciplined  mind  is  con- 


CONTINUOUSNESS. 


231 


tinuoiis,  §  269;  and  cnseqiiently  should  be  so  represented 
iiulisc..ur.se  so  far  as  im.guu-e  will  allow.    There  are  liujiis 
indeed,  to  the  degree  in  which  this  property  can  be  secured 
to  shle.     When  the   mind  is  roused   to  a  high  pitch   of 
passion,  and  the  thoughts  come  strong  and  quick,  languaoe 
hecon.es  too  inllexible  and  awkward  to  serve  as  its  ready 
expression.     Then  the  thought  bursis  out,  as  it  best  can,  iu 
dissevered  IVagmcnts  of  speech,     ft  leaps,  like  the  electric 
fluid  from  cloud  to  cloud,  manifesting  itself  hero  and  there 
at  Hide  intervals  of  space.     And  yet  even  then  it  properly 
maintains  something  of  the  appearance  of  conlinuousness 
and  does  not  offend  the  hearer  by  its  violent  leaps;  but  by 
the  very  velocity  of  its  movement  prevents  the  notice  of  its 
successive  radiations,  and,  like  the   lightning,  ^ives  to  its 
separate  flashes  (he  effect  of  a  continuous  sheet  of  light. 

Although,  thus,  strong  impassioned  thought  leads  to  a 
sententious  style,  and,  therefore,  such  a  style  becomes  highly 
beautiful,  as  natural  and  proper  to  it,  the  affectation  of  such 
a  sfj  le  when  the  thought  is  of  the  opposite  character  is  ex- 
tremely  disgusting. 

The  speeches  of  Lord  Chatham  and  Patrick  Henry  fur- 
nish copious  examples  of  a  sententious  expression  which,  as 
warranted  by  the  character  of  the  thought,  are  fine  illustra- 
tions of  its  nature  and  its  proper  fuoclion. 

The  following  are  examples  of  a  style  faulty  in  this 
respect.  The  first  is  an  extract  from  the  Euphues  of  John 
Lyly;  from  which  romance  the  name  of  Euphuism  has  been 
derived  to  this  species  of  style.  This  kind  of  writing  is  not 
uncommonly  combined  with  labored  antithesis  and  affected 
quaintness  of  expression. 

A  burnt  child  dreadeth  the  fire.  He  that  stumbleth  twice 
at  one  stone  is  worthy  to  break  his  shins.  Thou  mayest 
happily  forswear   thyself,  but  thou   shalt  never  delude  me 


232 


SUBJECTIVE    PROPKRTIKS. 


I  know  thee  now  as  readily  by  thy  visard  as  by  thy  visage. 
It  is  a  blind  goose  that  knoweth  not  a  fox  from  a  fern-bush' 
and  a  foolisli  fellow  that  cannot  discern  craft  from  con- 
science, being  once  cozened. 

$  300.  For  expressing  this  continuity  in  the  thought 
language  provides, 

In  the  fust  place,  a  great  variety  of  words  designed 
for  this  very  purpose ; 

Secondly,  it  allows  the  use  of  many  forms  for  this 
object  that  are  also  employed  for  other  purposes  of 
speech;  and 

Thirdly,  It  admits  of  a  peculiar  structure  of  the 
sentence  which  is  adapted  to  this  sole  end. 

How  great  an  excellence  this  is  in  speech  is  shown  at 
once  in  the  fact  that  the  human  reason  in  the  framing  of 
speech  has  contrived  and  furnished  so  many  expedients  for 
binding  discourse  together,  which  without  them  is  justly 
compared  to  «  sand  without  lime."  *  It  is  one  of  the  pecu- 
liar excellencies  of  the  Greek  tongue  that  it  abounds  in  such 
connectives  which,  while  they  show  the  relations  of  the 
thought,  at  the  same  time  give  to  the  expression  of  it  cohe- 
sion and  compactness. 

Of  proper  connectives  we  have  in  language— 

1.  Conjunctions  of  all  species,  both  copulative,  adversa- 
live,  conditional,  illative,  &c.; 

2.  Relatives  of  all  kinds,  whether  pronouns  or  such  ad- 
verbs as  accordinghj,  thus,  therefore,  &c.,  and  adjectives 
of  order  and  others; 

3.  Forms  of  expression  appropriated  to  this  object,  as 
« to  contin  UP,, "  '^  to  add, "  &c. 

In  the  general  structure  of  the  sentence,  also,  the  property 

*  Arena  sine  Cdlce.—Srncca.  " 


N\TUU  ALNESS. 


233 


of  confinuousness  or  its  opposite  may  be  represented  to  a 
great  deoree.  The  length,  the  implication 
dence  ol  the  parts,  the  arranf  ;  .^nt  of  the  several  members, 
the  imagery,  whether  derive  i.  re  from  individual  objects 
or  extendi-d  scenes,  Irom  partic.ilar  features  or  connected 
parts— all  these  various  aspects  of  the  sentence  may  exhibit, 
more  or  less,  the  continuous  or  the  fragmentary  character  of 
the  thought. 

It  should  be  observed,  in  this  connection,  that  much  will 
depend  on  the  particular  habits  of  the  individual  speaker 
whether  his  style  will  more  naturally  be  continuous  or  sen- 
tentious and  abrupt.     Simplicity,  earnestness,  and  directness 
incline  more  to  short,  disconnected  expressions.     Expanded 
views,  fulness  of  thought,  cautiousness  and  wariness  lead 
to  a  more  extended,  connected  and  continuous  style.      Con- 
tinuousness  is   an   excellence  only  when  it  is  natural.     A 
broken,  abrupt,  saltatory  style,  unless  obviously  determined 
by  the  character  of  the  thought,  never  pleases  long.     Even 
iiie  pithy  sententiousness  of  Lord   Bacon's  style  wearies. 
Strong  thought  may  save  such  a  style;  it  is  not  commended 
by  it. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OF    NATURALNESS    IN    STYLE. 

$  301.  Naturalness  is  a  property  which  appears 
m  style  so  far  as  it  represents  the  particular  state  of 
the  speaker's  mind  at  the  time  of  speaking. 

The  other  two  subjective  properties  of  style  are  general, 
wing  founded  on  the  nature  of  ihnucrU      \rofMr«i-,„-_  :, 

4bU 


234 


SUBJECTIVE    PROPERTIES. 


•I     I 


'!i"t'i^i 


m  -  J 


n  \- 


m  H. 


ft  « > 


I  i. 


!     I. 


fouiuled  on  the  peculiar  mental  condition  of  the  individual 

speaker. 

Every  one  has  his  own  modes  of  thinking.  He  has  his 
own  modes  of  viewing  truth.  His  feelings  have  their  own 
peculiar  characteristics.  The  same  ideas,  even,  passing 
through  two  different  minds,  or  through  the  same  mind  at 
different  times  and  in  diflerent  circumstances,  become  to  a 
considerable  degree  modified  in  their  character. 

Every  one  has,  also,  his  own  manner  of  expression.  His 
range  of  words  is  peculiar.  The  structure  of  his  sentences 
is   peculiar.     His   forms   of    illustration,   his    images   are 

peculiar. 

Every  writer  and  every  speaker,  thus,  has  his  own  man- 
ner.    One  is  more  ditfuse,  another  more  concise;  one  more 
lean  and  jejune,  another  more  copious  and  luxuriant;  one 
is  more  florid,  another  more  plain;  one  more  dry,  another 
more  rich  and  succulent;  one  more  nervous  or  vehement, 
another  more  feeble  or  tame;  one  more  neat  and  elegant, 
another  more  careless  and   loose;  one   more  elevated  and 
stately,  another  more  familiar  and  free.     The  speaker's  own 
manner  best  becomes  him.     While  he  is  careful  to  avoid 
positive  faults,  and  particularly  those  of  excess,  to  vary  and 
enrich  with  all  the  various  excellencies  that  can  be  admitted 
into  his  style,  he  should  still  preserve  his  own  manner,  as 
scarcely  any  thing  is  more  offensive  than  a  strained,  affected, 
unnatural  style  of  expression.     For  the  purpose  oi  forming 
a  style,  it  may  be   safe   to  select  a  model  and  strive  to 
imitate.     This  may,  indeed,  be  recommended  within  certain 
limits  and  in  strict  subjection  to  certain  principles.     Even 
here,  however,  the  better  course    is  to  study  the  diflerent 
elemrnts  of  expression  or  properties  of  style,  and  exercise  on 
thor  -  especially  in  which  there  is  consciousness  of  deficiency, 
m'  g  other  writers  or  speakers  remarkable  for  those  proper- 


NATURALNESS. 


235 


ties  rather  as  exeinplilications  than  as  models  for  imitation. 
But   when    actually    eiigaging   in   the   work  of   conveying 
thought  and  feeling  to  others,  the  speaker  or  writer  should 
banish  from  his  mind  all  thought  of  this  or  that  style  or  man- 
ner, and  allow  a  free  spontaneous  expression  to  his  thoughts. 
Reason  must,  indeed,  preside  over  all  discourse.     But  its 
influence  in  securing  rational  discourse  should  be  exerted 
rather  in   determining  and  shaping  the  mental  habits,  and 
thus  impressing  its  high  ciiaracter  on  every  exertion  of  the 
mind  while  the  life  and  beauty  of  spontaneous  action  is  still 
preserved.     This  is,  indeed,  the  end  and  object  of  all  true 
intellectual  discipline.     Excessive  care,  at  the  time  of  con- 
structing discourse,  to    preserve  from  every  thing    faulty, 
may  be  injurious.     In  writing,  at  least,  it  is  better  to  write 
fre«lv  and  correct  afterwards. 

§  302.  Naturalness  in  style  respects  the  person,  the 
official  character  and  standing  of  the  speaker,  and  the 
subject  and  occasion  of  liis  discourse. 

§  303.  The  personal  characteristics  of  style  are 
determined  either  more  directly  by  the  habits  of 
thought,  however  formed,  peculiar  to  the  individual 
speaker,  or  more  indirectly  by  his  physical  habits. 

There  is  a  singular  beauty  in  that  style  which  is  the  free 
and  unforced  expression  of  the  speaker's  own  thoughts  w^ith 
all  their  peculiar  characteristics.  It  must  yet  be  ever  borne 
in  mind  that  low  tiiuughts  and  low  imagery,  even  although 
expressed  naturally,  must  necessarily  be  oiTensive.  It  can- 
not therefore  be  too  earnestly  enjoined  on  the  mind  that  is 
formino-  its  habits  and  character  to  shun  with  the  utmost 
care  every  thing  that  can  vitiate  its  taste,  debase  its  senti- 
ments, or  corrupt  the  verbal  and  sensible  material  in  which 
its  thoughts  are  to  embody  themselves;   and   to  cultivate 


I 


i.  >! 


kV  ^-% 


236 


SUBJECTIVE    PKOPERTIEa. 


assiduously,  on  the  other  haud,  familiarity  with  all  that  > 
pure  and  ennobling  in  thought  and  sentiment,  and  all  thu. 
is  lovely  and  beautiful  in  language  and  in  the  various  kinds 
of  sensible  imagery  emploj  ed  in  expression.  Both  uf  these 
objects  should  be  kept  distinctly  in  view,  viz:  the  puiiiy 
and  elevation  of  the  thought  itself,  and  the  material  which 
is  used  for  embodying  thought.  Every  man  has,  in  an  im- 
portant sense,  a  language  of  his  own.  Both  the  range  of 
words,  and  the  sensible  objects  and  scenes,  as  well  as  all 
the  various  mi.ans  of  communicating  and  illustrating 
thought,  are  peculiar,  within  certain  limits,  to  the  individnul. 
Hence  arises  the  imperious  necessity  of  care  and  labor  in 
providing  for  a  pure  and  elegant  as  well  as  a  natural 
expression  of  thought  by  avoiding  all  low  associations  both 
of  words  and  images. 

The  physical  condition  and  habits  of  the  speaker  have 
much  to  do  with  his  style.  Speech  is,  materially,  a  physi- 
cal effort;  and  must,  conse<piently,  be  vitally  affected  by 
the  condition  of  the  body.  Especially  do  the  more  proper 
vocal  organs,  or  those  parts  of  the  body  which  are  more 
directly  concerned  in  speaking,  exert  an  influence  on  style. 
The  culture  of  the  voice  in  elocution  is,  therefore,  important 
to  the  highest  skill  in  constructing  discourse  for  delivery. 
In  preparing  such  discourse  the  writer  will  ever,  even  if 
unconsciously  to  himself,  consult  his  powers  of  utterance. 
Observation  abundantly  shows  how  a  naturally  imaginative 
and  highly  impassioned  style  may  be  gradually  changed  into 
one  that  is  dry  and  tame  by  the  continued  influence  of  the 
conviction  of  an  inability  appropriately  to  deliver  strongly 
impassioned  discourse.  A  conscious  power  and  skill  to 
express  with  eflect  the  most  highly  wrought  <.  loourse  will, 
on  the  other  hand,  ever  be  stimulating  to  the  production  of 


th  all  thai  > 

,  and  all  thu. 
v^arious  kinds 
Both  of  these 
z:  the  puiiiv 
alerial  which 
las,  in  an  ini- 
the  range  of 
IS  well  as  all 
I  illustrating 
he  individnal. 
and  labor  in 
as  a  natural 
jciations  both 

speaker  have 
ally,  a  phvsi- 
r  affected  by 

more  proper 
ich  are  more 
ence  on  stvle. 
are,  important 

for  delivery. 

ever,  even  if 

of  utterance, 
y  imaginative 
■  changed  into 
Quence  of  the 
il)  ver  strongly 

and  skill  to 
.  loourse  will, 
production  of 


NATURALNK.S3. 


237 


it.  Indeed,  the  imagined  effect  of  his  writings  as  pronoun- 
ced by  himself  will  ever  control  the  writer  in  preparing 
thought  for  communication  to  others.  He  will  not  write 
sentences  that  he  cannot  pronounce,  on  the  one  hand;  and, 
on  the  other,  he  will  be  secretly  prompted  to  write  in  such 
a  manner  as  best  to  display  his  skill  in  delivery. 

While  naturalness  requires  that  discourse  be  a  free  repre- 
sentation of  the  speaker's  own  mind  and  character,  it  forbids 
all  direct  reference  to  himself.  This  fault,  denominated 
egotism,  is  always  exceedingly  offensive. 

$  304.  The  official  character  and  standing  of  the 
speaker  should  ever  so  control  style  as  that  while  it  is 
not  suffered  to  predominate  in  his  attention  at  all  over 
his  subject  or  the  design  of  his  discourse,  it  yet  shall 
prevent  every  thing  incompatible  with  such  oflBcial 
standing. 

The  regard  which  the  speaker  must  pay  to  his  official 
standing  and  relations  must  be  a  controlling  one;  and  yet 
only  in  subordination  to  that  which  he  is  to  pay  to  other 
things.  Offic.dl  propriety  is  only  one,  and  a  subordinate 
one,  of  those  species  of  propriety  which  must  appear  in  dis- 
course. 

$  305.  The  subject  and  the  occasion  of  the  dis- 
course, as  they  must  affect  strongly  the  mind  of  the 
speaker,  v/ill  also  leave  their  impressions  on  his  style, 
in  rendering  it  more  earnest  and  elevated,  more  stately 
and  dignified  ;  or  more  light  and  familiar. 

The  distinction  of  the  high,  tJie  low,  and  the  middle 
styles  of  oratory  recognized  by  the  ancients  was  founded 
mainly  on  the  subject  and  the  occasion  of  the  discourse. 
Other  things,  it  is  true,  were  regarded  in  the  distinction. 


w 


238 


SUBJKC"!  IV!;    FRori'.Il'I'IKS. 


^i^  I,  I . 


>.  t' 


li  jl 


as  personal  peculiarities.  Horner  thus  distributes  the  difTer* 
ent  stvles  amoiif^-  three  of  his  leading  characters.*  Stilly 
when  the  attempt  was  made  by  rlietoricians  to  determine 
the  province  of  these  separate  styles  they  generally  fell  buck 
on  the  subject.  Thus  Cicero,  Is  erit  igitur  eloquens,  qui 
poterit  parva  summisse,  modica  temperate^,  magna  graviter 
dicere.-'-Ora^.  29. 

The  following  will  serve  to  illustrate  what  different  char- 
acter the  occasion  or  the  subject  will  impress  on  style  «ven 
when  the  same  thought  is  to  be  conveyed.  Home)  thus 
describes  the  morning: 

The  saffron  morn,  with  early  blushes  spread. 
Now  rose  refulgent  from  Tithonus'  bed, 
With  new-born  day  to  gladden  mortal  sight. 
And  gild  the  course  of  heaven  with  sacred  light. 

Butler,  in  his  Hudibras,  thus  describes  the  same  scete! 

The  sun  had  long  since  in  the  lap 
Of  Thetis  taken  out  his  nap; 
And,  like  a  lobster  boiled,  the  morn 
From  black  to  red  began  to  turn 

Burke,  in  his  speech  on  Conciliation  with  America,  was 
led  to  speak  in  the  following  terms  of  the  rapid  increase  of 
p(,pulation  in  the  colonies: 

I  can  by  no  calculation  justify  myself  in  placing  the 
number  below  two  millions  of  inhabitants  of  our  own 
European  blood  and  color j  besides  at  least  five  hundred 
thousand  others,  who  form  no  inconsiderable  part  of  the 
whole.  This,  sir,  is,  I  believe,  about  the  true  number. 
There  is  no  occasion  to  exaggerate,  when  plain  truth  is  of 

*  E.i  ipsa  genera  dicendi  jam  antiquitus  tradita  ab  Homero  sunt 
tria  in  tribuB ;  magnificum  in  Ulyxe  et  ubertum,  subtile  in  Monolao 
et  coliibitum,  mixtmn  moderatuiuqne  in  Nts'ore. — Gell.  VII.  14 
See  also  Quint.  Inst.  Orat.  II,  17,  8;  XIL  10,  63.  G4.  Cic  Oral 
?3— 29 


W 


NATURALNESS. 


239 


flo  much  weif^ht  and  importance.  But  whether  I  put  tho 
present  numbers  too  high  or  too  low  is  a  mutter  of  little 
moment.  Such  is  the  strength  with  which  population  shoots 
in  that  part  of  the  wurld,  that,  slate  the  numbers  as  high  as 
we  will,  whilst  the  dispute  continues  tiie  exaggeration  ends. 
Whilst  we  are  discussing  any  given  magnitude;,  they  are 
grown  to  it.  Whilst  we  spend  our  time  in  deliberating  on 
the  mode  of  governing  two  millions,  we  shall  find  ve  have 
millions  more  to  manage.  "V'our  children  do  not  g.  jw  faster 
from  infancy  to  manhood,  than  they  spread  from  families 
to  communities  and  from  villages  to  nations. 

Dr.  Johnson,  in  his  pamphlet  entitled  "Taxation  no 
Tyranny,"  aiming  at  an  entirely  opposite  object,  to  disparage 
tJie  colonies,  uses  the  following  language  in  respect  to  the 
same  point: 

But  we  are  soon  told  that  the  continent  of  North  America 
contains  three  millions,  not  of  men  merely,  but  of  whigs; 
of  whigs  fierce  for  liberty,  and  disdainful  of  dominion;  that 
they  multiply  with  the  fecundity  of  their  own  rattle" 
snakes;  so  that  every  quarter  of  a  century  doubles  their 
numbers. 


I    I 


PART  IIL—OBJECTIVE  PROPERTIES. 


CHAPTER  I. 

GENERAL    VIEW. 

$  306.  The  objective  properties  of  style  are 
those  whicli  are  determined  to  discourse  by  a  regard 
to  the  effect  on  the  mind  addressed.  §  244. 

The  objective  properties  presuppose  the  other  two  classes 
of  properties,  and  are  founded,  in  part  at  least,  upon  them. 
They  differ,  sometimes,  only  in  degree;  as  clearness,  which 
i&  an  objective  property,  may  often  be  only  significance  in 
a  higher  degree,  which  is  a  suggestive  property.  Energy, 
also,  another  objective  property,  presupposes  harmony,  an 
absolute  property,  as  well  as  others  of  that  class.  But  it 
may  be  necessary,  however,  for  the  sake  of  effect,  often  to 
regard  those  other  classes  of  properties  more  than  would 
otherwise  be  required  by  any  consideration  of  the  nature  of 
style. 

But  this  objective  use  of  language,  for  effect  on  other 
minds,  requires  some  characteristics  of  style  that  are  distin- 
guished from  the  absolute  and  subjective  properties,  not  ia 
degree  merely,  but  also  in  kind.  Many  of  the  figures  of 
speech,  so  called,  for  instance,  are  of  this  character. 

The  circumstance  that  the  subjective  prop?  ^es  presuppose 
those  of  the  other  classes   and   are   founded,  in  part  upon 


Gi;  NIC  II  Ah    VIKW 


241 


for 


^ERTIES. 


of  style  are 
by  a  regard 
I. 

er  two  classes 
t,  upon  them, 
arness,  which 
gnificance  in 
ty.  Energy, 
harmony,  an 
3lass.  But  it 
lect,  often  to 
i  than  would 
the  nature  of 

feet  on  other 

lat  are  distin- 

jerties,  not  in 

he  figures  of 

racter. 

es  presuppose 

in  part  upon 


them  will  account  ,ur  tne  lact  that,  in  some  cases,  me  con. 
sideration  of  the  same  property  may  belong  in  common  to 
dilferent  parts  of  rhetoric*  There  is,  notwithstanding,  an 
obvious  and  radical  distinction  between  the  three  different 
classes. 

§  307.  The  objective  properties  are,  all,  in  their  na- 
ture relative,  and  must  vary  with  the  various  charac- 
ter of  the  inind  addressed. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  advance  any  formal  illustrations 
ot  the  truth  of  this  proposition.  What  is  clear  to  one  mind 
may  be  obscure  to  another.  What  is  impressive  and 
beautiful  to  one,  may  be  dull  and  dry  to  another. 

Ivfis  still  to  be  observed  that  all  minds  have  common 
properties;  and  there  are  laws  applicable  to  all  alike,  which 
control  the  exercises  of  the  intellect,  the  feelings,  and  the 
taste.  There  are,  consequently,  principles  of  style  which  are 
founded  on  the  general  and  invariable  character  of  the 
human  mind.  Those  characteristics  which  render  a  dis- 
course clear  to  one  mind  will,  to  a  certain  extent,  be  requi- 
site  to  make  it  so  to  every  other  mind. 

§  308.  The  objective  properties  of  style  are  Clear- 
ness, Enerhy,  and  Elegance. 

It  is  obvious  that  in  order  to  affect  another  mind  to  the 
highest  degree  by  discourse,  it  must  not  only  contain 
thought,— be  significant,  but,  also,  be  susceptible  of  ready 
interpretation.     It  must  be  clear. 

In  order,  farther,  to  a  vivid  effect  upon  the  intellect  and 
feelings,  discourse  must  bear  on  its  face  the  character  of  life 

It  maybe  proper  to  remark  here,  that  in  order  to  avoid  nnneces- 
•ary  repetition,  some  observations  are  made  under  one  dags  of 
properties  wliich  might  properly  fall  under  another. 

2) 


V    k    ! 


■1 

m  ■• : 

1    • 
1 

1 

■l 

^l''H 

^^^^B|u  ^         1 

1 

1] 

\!5 

1 

242 


OBJECTIVE    PROPERTIES. 


and  vigor.  The  thought  must  be  addressed  in  livcl)',  (flovf 
ing  language.     Discourse  must  be  energetic. 

Once  more,  the  same  end  of  discourse  cannot  well  be 
eirecied  without  regard  to  the  aesthetic  properties  ol"  the 
mind;  in  other  words,  without  regarding  the  taste  oi"  those 
addressed.     Dipcouree  must  bo  clep;nnt. 

These  three  properties  are  all  which  a  consideration  of  the 
effect  of  discourse  requires  in  style,  exclusive  of  those  which 
tlje  nature  of  languasre  and  the  mental  condition  of  the 
speaker  impose. 

$  309.  Of  the  three  objective  properties  of  style, 
clearness  is,  in  order  of  importance,  the  first  and  most 
indispensable  ;  energy  is  next  in  importance  ;  and  ele- 
gance last  and  lowest. 

Clearness  is  most  indispensable,  since  if  discourse  is  not 
understood,  it  can  not  be  felt.  Just  so  far  as  it  is  unintel- 
ligible, it  fails  of  its  very  end.  VV'^herever,  therefore,  clear- 
ness comes  into  collision  with  energy,  it  should  have  the 
precedence.  But  yet,  as  clearness  is  a  property  that  admits 
of  degrees,  and  what  is  slightly  obscure  may  be  still  intelli- 
gible althougii  only  with  effort,  a  high  degree  of  energy 
may  sometimes  be  properly  preferred  to  a  slightly  increased 
degree  of  clearness. 

Farther,  energy  must  be  obviously  regarded,  in  all  proper 
oratory,  as  of  superior  importance  to  elegance;  while,  at  the 
same  time,  it  may  be  expedient  to  sacrifice  a  little  energy 
to  gain  a  high  degree  of  beauty. 

The  character  of  discourse  will,  however,  affect  the  rela- 
tive properties.  In  explanatory  discourse,  where  the  object 
is  to  inform,  clearness  is  decidedly  the  ruling  property ;  aud 
its  claims  far  outweigh  all  others.  In  conviction,  energy 
rises  relatively  in    importance,  and    may  properly  require 


CLKAHNESS. 


2-13 


Home  sacrifice  of  clearness.  Still  more  is  this  the  case  in 
excitation  and  persuasion.  Passion,  here,  sometin.es  tri- 
urnphs  over  reason;  and  sympathy  outruns  argun.ent 
Wlierever,  again,  vehement  feeling  enters  into  discourse 
energy  should  strongly  prevail  over  mere  elegance.  On  the 
other  hand,  in  gentle  excitement  of  feeling,  elegance  is  eleva- 
ted,  relatively,  to  a  higher  rank. 


CHAPTER  II. 

OP   CLEARNESS. 

$  310.  Clearness  in  style  requires  that  the  thought 
be  so  presented  that  the  mind  addressed  shall  appre- 
hend it  readily  and  without  labor. 

It  is  not  enough  that  the  speaker  himself  readily  appre^ 
he.ul  the  thought,  or  that  the  discourse  be  clear  to  himself- 
or  that  it  may  be  readily  intelligible  to  a  certain  class  of 
minds.  Clearness,  as  a  relative  property  of  style,  §  307 
requires  that  the  particular  mind  addressed  be  regarded' 
and  that  care  be  taken  to  adapt  the  discourse  to  its  capacity 
ol  apprehension. 

Nor,  farther,  is  it  enough  that  even  the  mind  addressed 
may,  on  sufficient  study  and  reflection,  be  able  to  make  out 
the  sense.  The  discourse,  says  Quintilian,  should  enter  the 
mind,  as  the  sun  the  eye,  even  although  not  intently  fixed 
apon  it;  so  that  pains  are  necessary  not  merely  that  the 
hearer  may  be  able  to  understand  it,  but  that  he  can  in  no 
way  fail  to  undersfand  it.* 


Ut  m  ani,„ura  ejus  oratio,  ut.  sol  in  ocnioa,  etian.d  in  ea.n 
non  nuendatur.  incurr...  (iuare  non,  at  inlelligere  pos«it,  sed  ne 
omnmo  ,,o,Mt  nqn  infdli^xuo,  curandu,n.~Or«^  Inst.  Ill  2  23  2* 


!■  I 


F 


244 


OHiRiri  Vi;    PKOPHIITIBS. 


$  311.  Clearness  tlopcncls  on  a  right  consideration 
of  three  (lilh;n;nt  things  in  discourse,  viz: 

1.  The  Ivind  of  words  employed  ; 

2.  TIic  representative  imagery ;  and 

3.  The  structure  of  the  sentence. 

§  312.  The  kinds  of  words  to  be  preferred  for  tha 
sake  of  securing  clearness,  are 

1.  Such  as  are  grammatical  in  opposition  to  barbar- 
isms ; 

2.  Anglo  Saxon  words ; 

3.  Such  as  are  not  equivocal  or  ambiguous ;  and 

4.  Simple  and  specific  in  distinction  from  the  more 
generic. 

All  the  var/pties  of  barbarisms  enumerated  in  §  289,  are 
to  the  popular  mind  generally  obscure  or  unintelligible,  just 
so  far  as  not  in  use.  It  should  be  remai  ked,  however,  that 
whether  barbarisms  are  clear  or  otheru  ^e  to  a  particular 
mind,  depends  on  the  circumstance  of  its  having  been 
familiar  with  them  or  not.  To  the  scholar,  archaisms  are 
not  aluu;  ()])scure;  nor  to  the  man  versed  in  a  particular 
art  or  science,  -e  the  tech>iicalities  of  that  art  obscure. 
They  may  be  to  him,  indeed,  the  clearest  of  all  classes  of 
words.  But  so  far  as  discourse  is  intended  for  the  popular 
mind  generally,  all  barbarisms  should,  for  the  sake  of  clear- 
ness,  be  avoided. 

When,  on  the  other  hand,  the  discourse  is  addressed  to  a 
particular  class  of  minds,  the  words  more  familiar  to  that 
class  are  preferable  as  cowducive  t,  clearness.  An  address 
to  sailors  may,  thus,  consistently  with  clearness,  abound 
with  nautical  terms. 

The  following  sentences  are  faulty  in  respect  o  th*»  um 
of  this  species  of  words. 


CLEARNESS. 


id     Q  thfi  \m 


to  sea. 


Tack  to  the  larboard  and  stand  off  lu  sea. 

Veer  starboard  sea  uud  \and.~Dri/den',  JEucul 

Hethaf  works  by  Thessalic  ceremonies,  b 


^15 


nonsense  wor<^,  b,  figures  and  insignilica^t^^l.:  "  ^^.^^f 
by.na,e,s   and    by  rags   by  circles  *\nd    impertec  e  * 

haflMnore  advantage  and  real   title  to  the   opnortuni   cTi^f 
inisch.et,  by  the  cursing  tongue.-/.  T^.y/o^i  ^I";;!"!  '' 

(J  1  begins  his  cure  by  caustics,  i)v  incisions  and  instru, 
ment.s  01  vexation,  to  try  if  the  dise..;  that  will  X  eld  o 
the  a  lectives  of  cordials  and  perfun^.s,  iVictions  Tnd  Wh. 

t^  but  ir'  "f  '^  '""T'^''  ^^^"^  -^^"-  -^ '~  - 

tai_v,  but  less  pleasing  physic— /</. 

,  Anglo-Saxon  words,  as  belonging  to  the  original  stock  of 
our  language  and  constituting  the  i^uly  vernacular  part  of 
It,  so  to  speak,  are  more  significant  and  intelligible  to  the 
Lnghsh  mind  than  those  of  Latin  or  French  origin,  and  are 
on  th.s  account  to  be  preferred.  IVen  radical  words  of 
Lafm  origin  with  Anglo-Saxon  termir.«tions  are,  often,  more 
expressive  and  clear  than  those  reguk,Jy  formed  with  Latin 
tenniuutiuns.  Hence,  perhaps,  it  is  w.  hnd  so  many  hybrid 
tenns  in  our  language;  such  as  lucid.v.s,  passiveness;  tar- 
diness,  instead  of  lucidity,  &c. 

It  is  to  be  observed,  however,  that  in    order  to  greater 
precision  and  exactness  in  the  use  of  language,  words  of  dif- 
erent  stocks  have  become  appropriated,  respectively,  to  dif- 
ferent shades  or  applications  of  the  general  idea  denoted  by 
the  original  word.     Words  of  Latin  derivation  have,  thus, 
in  many  cases,  been  introduced  for  the  purpose  of  denotino- 
only  one  specific  shaue  of  the  general  meai  irg  which  is  ext 
pressed  by  the  proper  word,  bot:-  in  the  Angl^axon  and 
the  Latin  language.     Hence,  inasmuch  as  prec:.ion  is  an 
element  of  clearness,  a  Latin  word  denoting  such  ..  s^articu- 
lar  a.spect  of  u.e  general  idea  may  be  more  clea,  .^J^an  the 
corresp. ading  term  of  Anglo-Saxon  origin.     Thus  .\.e  w^rda 

91* 


a 


240 


OBJKCTIVE    PROPHKTIRa. 


h,<m„n,  human,;  a,.d  ,nunl,j  have  uriginallj,  ,|,o  ,ame  .!«. 
m(,™„„„;  .u.,Uo.  Journal.  <//a,-y,and  daily;  igueo,nZ 

Ja  such  ca«e..  the  Latin  word  wilj  often  be  found  to  be 
most  perspicuous. 

E(|uivocal  words  are  of  four  dilTerent  classes:   1.  Pr^.i 
t^^cs,U>  wbich  use  has  somehow  appropriated  diderent  si,.' 
"^/.ca.o„3    of   which  kind  of   words  the    number  is  very 
g'-eat  in  all  languages;  as  coin,  which  signifies  a  corner  or 
wedge  and  also  a  die  or  money  stamped  by  ^  die-  hdm 

-h.ch  de^^,      both  a  defend  fW  the  L 
nitJiit  by  which  a  ship  is  steered. 

Tl)e  relative  pronouns  tvho,  which,  and  that  are  used 
both  to  explain  a. d  also  to  limit  and  restrain  the  word  or 
words  to  which  they  refer.  They  are,  in  other  words,  as 
Ur  Umpbell  de.gnates  them,  expliccUive  or  ddermiuatiu 

1  hey  are  explicative  in  the  following  sentences  : 

tremble.'  '"''"  ''  """"^  "'"  ''"™^"'  "  "^  ^'^  ^^>'«  ^^^  ^''^H  of 

Oodliness   which  with  contentn^ent  is  great  gain    has  tl.« 
promise  of  the  present  life  and  of  the  future.    ^ 
They  are  determinative  in  the  following: 
The  man  th.t  endureth  to  the  end  shall  be  saved 
Ue  remorse,  which  issues  in  reformation,  is  true  repent- 


ance 


They  are  more  or  less  equivocal  in  the  following- 

I  know  that  all  words  which  are  signs  of  complex  ideas 
furnish  matter  of  mistake  and  cavil.  ^'""iP'ex  ideas 

2.  Derivatives  and  compovnds;  as  mortal,  which  has 
both  an  active  and  a  passive  sense,  as  in  the  sentence,  «As 
for  such  animals  as  are  mortal  or  noxious,  we  have  a  right 
to  destroy  them";  consumption,  as,  "Your  majesty  has  lost 
all  hopes  of  any  future  excises  by  their  consumption";  and 
in  compounds,  overlook,  as,  "The  next  refuge  was  to  say. 


'  the  same  aigw 
;  f'^- ft  eons  and 

)e  luiind  (o  be 

e«:  1.  Pn'mi. 
1  (lifTerent  sig- 
iinber  is  very 
s  a  corner  or 
'Q.  die;  helm, 
id  tlje  instru- 

hat  are  used 

the  word  or 

lier  words,  as 

terminutive. 

ces: 

'  and  full  of 


CLEARNESS. 


247 


ain,  has  the 


ved. 

true  repent- 

I'ing: 
mplex  ideas 

,  which  has 
ntence,  "As 
lave  a  right 
isty  has  lost 
ttion'*;  and 
^as  to  say. 


it  was  overloolffid  by  one  mnn   inr?  n^n«. 

"/  ""e  man,  and  many  passages  whoUv 

written  by  another";  discharge,  as,  '  *^       *»     ^^""^^^ 

'Txs  not  a  crime  to  attempt  what  I  decree, 
Ur  ii  It  were,  discharge  the  ci  ime  on  me. 

Dry  den's  ^neid, 
3.     Injlccted  words,  or  those  which  are  equivocal  in  con- 
-ejjuence  of  u  si.„ilurity  of  inflection  in  diHerent  words-  as 
.She  united  the  great  body  of  the  people  in  her  and  iheir 
cornmon   interest";    «I    have   long  since    learned    to    like 
nothing  but  what  you  do.^' 

Equivocal  word,  are  either  properly  ambiguous,  or 
hon,onvn,ous  A  properl;,  ambiguous  word  i.,  one  wl.ich 
l.a»  come  to  be  used  in  diflerent  signifieations,  as,  «.„■»«. 
vduci,  means  either  of  stro,,g  „.,-ves  or  of  n,eak  n.rve,. 
Wmomjm.  are  words  which,  of  a  different  origin,  have 
accdeutally  assumed  the  same  form,  as  ma^s.  a  heap,  and 
muss,  a  catholic  religious  servicer 

lod.vidual  and  more  specific  words  are  (o  be  preferred  to 
those  which  are  „,ore  generic,  because  individual  and  specific 
objects  are  more  easily  apprehended  than  abstract  and 
generic. 

4.  Words  which  become  equivocal  by  position,  as  in  the 
tuUou'ing  instances: 

coIlnstvT'""'  "  '"^  ^'""''^^^  ^"^^^'^^^^  ^^-^  -tirely 

The  lecture  was  well  attended  and  generally  interesting. 

$  313.   The   representative   imagery  employed   for 

the  communication  of  thought  should  for  the  purpose 

of  clearness,  be  derived  from  such  objects  and  truths 

as  are  familiar  to  the  mind  addressed ;  and,  also,  be 

»-v  Itself  susceptible  of  a  ready  interpretation 

This  element  of  clearness  is  founded  upon  the  symbolical 


m 


An'''-     M 

At     '  SI 


il^""^        E 


248 


OBJECTIVE    PROPERTIES. 


properties  of  language,  $  281.  From  the  very  nature  of 
language,  regarded  as  symbolical  or  picture-like,  it  will  be 
obvious  that  the  symbol  or  picture  itself  must  be  known  by 
the  hearer  or  he  caanot  interpret  it.  Here  the  same  obser- 
vations apply  to  some  extent  that  have  been  already  made  in 
reference  to  words  of  popular  use.  While  all  minds  may 
be  supposed  to  be  conversant  with  the  great  phenomena  0/ 
nature  that  daily  exhibit  themselves  to  the  senses,  yet  even 
these  specifically  diifer  in  different  parts  of  the  earth.  Hence 
the  inhabitant  of  sunny  Greece  may  readily  u;:derstand 
language  that  pictures  the  thought  and  sentiment  through 
images  drawn  from  his  own  daily  observation^  which  would 
be  unintelligible  to  one  who  dwells  under  a  colder  and  a 
cloudier  sky.  The  representative  imagery  of  the  Bible  was 
doubtless  clear  to  the  orientalist  for  whom  more  immediately 
it  was  written,  while  it  is  often  extremely  obscure  and  un- 
intelligible to  others.  A  style  that  abounds  in  classical 
imagery  is  clear  to  the  scholar;  but  unmeaning  to  the  unedu- 
cated. The  sermons  of  Jeremy  Taylor,  which  employ  this 
kind  of  representative  imagery  to  a  groat  extent,  would 
entirely  fail  of  etTect,  from  their  unintelligibleness,  on  a 
common  audience.  Those  discourses,  also,  which,  to  an 
audience  familiar  with  the  scriptures,  are  perfectly  clear,  we 
know  from  actual  occurrences  are  unmeaning  even  to  an 
intelligent  mind  that  has  not  been  conversant  with  the  Bible 

Farther,  even  when  the  mind  addressed  may  be  supposed 
to  be  familiar  with  the  sources  of  the  imagery,  care  is  neces- 
sary to  present  it  in  such  a  manner  as  that  it  shall  be  easily 
intelligible. 

The  following  are  exemplifications  of  offenses  against 
these  principles  o^  clearness: 

They  thought  there  w^as  no  life  after  this;  or  if  there 
were,  it  was  without  pleasure,  and  every  soul  thrust  into  a 


^™ 


CLEARNESS. 


249 


hole,  and  a  dorter  of  a  span's  length  allowed  for  his  rest 
and  tor  his  walk;  and  in  the  shades  below,  no  numbering 
of  healths  by  the  numeral  letters  of  Philenium's  name  no 
fat  mullets,  no  oysters  of  Lucrinus,  no  Lesbian  or  Chian 
wines.  Thereiore  now  enjoy  the  delicacies  of  nature,  and 
feel  the  descending  wines  distilled  through  the  limbeck  of 
thy  tongue  and  larynx,  and  suck  the  delicious  juices  of 
fishes,  the  marrow  of  the  laborious  ox,  and  the  tender  lard 
of  Apuliau  swine,  and  the  condited  bellies  of  the  scarus-  but 
lose  no  time,  for  the  sun  drives  hard,  and  the  shadow  is 
long,  and  "  the  days  of  mourning  are  at  hand,"  but  the 
number  of  the  days  of  darkness  and  the  grave  cannot  be 
told. — /.  Taylor. 

So  neither  will  the  pulse  and  the  leeks,  Lavinian  sausages, 
and  the  Cisalpine  suckets  and  gobbets  of  condited  bullV 
flesh,  minister  such  delicate  spirits  to  the  thinking  man 
but  his  notion  will  be  Hat  as  the  noise  of  the  Arcadfan  por- 
ter, and  thick  as  the  first  juice  of  his  country  lard,  unless 
he  makes  his  body  a  fit  servant  to  the  soul,  and  both  fitted 
for  the  employment. — Id. 

$  314.  Clearness,  as  depending  on  the  structure  of 
the  sentence  is  afTected  either  by  the  brevity  of  the  ex- 
pression, or  by  the  relation  between  the  parts  of  the 
sentence. 

$  315.  Brevity  is  opposed  to  clearness  whenever, 

1.  Through  want  of  copious  and  ample  illustration, 
the  thought  is  not  held  up  sufficiently  long  before  the 
mind  for  thorough  apprehension  ;  or 

2.  For  want  of  completeness,  the  whole  thought  is 
not  presented. 

Different  minds  difier  much  in  regard  to  quickness  of 
apprehension.  The  speaker  should,  therefore,  inquire  care- 
fully of  himself,  whether  through  natural  dullness  of  appre- 
hension, or  through  want  of  familiarity  with  the  subject, 
the  mind  addressed  requires  more  or  less  time  for  contem- 


:  t^' 


\     f    1    I 


250 


OBJECTIVE    PROPERTIES. 


plating  the  thought  in  order  to  apprehend  it;  and  amplify, 
the  expression  accordingly.  He  should,  likewise,  consult 
the  state  of  the  hearer's  mind  at  the  time.  When  the 
mind  is  excited  and  attentive,  the  apprelicnsion  is  ^^ui...er 
than  when  it  '"  dull  and  uninterested.  In  the  more  anima- 
ted parts  of  1  .e  discourse,  accordingly,  greater  brevity  is 
admissible.  It  is  then  less  necessary  to  amplify  the  thought 
— to  carry  out  the  expression  to  perfect  completeness.  Brief 
hints  and  suggestions  may  be  sufficient  to  put  the  hearers  in 
possession  of  the  entire  thought. 

Repetition  is  generally  to  be  preferred  to  obscurity  or 
ambiguity.  Dr.  Campbell  exemplifies  this  principle  by  the 
following  passage,  in  which  the  words,  his  fatlier,  are 
repeated  three  times  Avithout  disagreeable  effect.  "We  said 
to  my  lord.  The  lad  cannot  leave  his  father;  for  if  he  should 
leave  his  father,  his  father  would  die." 

The  following  sentences  are  faulty  in  this  respect: 

If  he  delights  in  these  studies,  ho  can  have  enough  of 
them.  He  may  bury  himself  in  them  as  deeply  as  he 
pleases.  He  may  revel  in  them  incessantly,  and  eat,  drink, 
and  clothe  himself  wiih  them. 

How  immense  the  differance  between  the  pious  and 
profane. 

§  316.  Clearness,  as  depending  on  the  relation  of 
the  parts  of  the  sentence,  is  afFected 

1.  By  the  use  of  the  relative  words  m  it; 

2.  By  the  arrangement  of  the  difll^rent  members; 
and 

3.  By  the  interposition  of  parenthetical  clauses. 

$  317.  Relative  words  may  either  be  too  remotely 
separated  from  their  antecedents,  or  may  be  of  ambigu* 
ous  reference. 


clearnp:ss. 


261 


The  following  are  examples  of  this  class  of  faults: 

a.  Too  remotely  separated; 

God  heapeth  favors  on  his  servants  ever  liberal  and 
faithful. 

b.  Of  amhiguous  reference ;* 

Lysias  promised  to  his  fatJicr  never  to  abandon  his  friends. 

Dr.  Prideaux  used  to  relate  that  when  he  brought  the 
copy  of  his  "Connection  of  the  Old  and  New  Testainents" 
to  the  bookseller,  he  told  him  it  was  a  dry  subject,  and  the 
printing  could  not  be  safely  ventured  upon  unless  he  could 
enliven  {\v:  work  with  a  little  humor. 

Thus  I  have  fairly  given  you.  Sir,  my  own  opinion  as  well 
as  that  of  a  great  majority  of  both  houses  here,  relating  to 
this  weighty  affair^  upon  which  I  am  coniidcnt,  you  may 
securely  reckon. 

They  were  summoned  occasionally  by  their  kings,  when 
conii)eiled  by  their  wants  and  by  their  foes  to  have  recourse 
to  their  aid. 

He  conjured  the  senate,  that  the  purity  of  his  reign  might 
not  be  stained  by  the  blood  even  of  a  guilty  senator. 

He  atoned  for  the  murder  of  an  innocent  son,  by  the  exe- 
cution perhaps  of  a  guilty  wife. 

Their  intimacy  had  commenced  in  the  happier  period, 
perhaps,  of  their  youth  and  obscurity. 

We  do  those  things  frequently  that  wc  repent  of  after- 
wards. 

Sixtus  the  Fourth,  was,  if  I  mistake  not,  a  great  collector 
of  books  at  least. — Bolingbroke. 


•  Rt'inhard  in  his  Memoirs  and  Confessions  s;iys,  "  I  have  always 
had  considerable  difTiculfy  in  makinjj  a  proper  use  of  pronouns.  In- 
dek^d,  I  have  taken  great  pains  so  to  use  them,  that  all  ambiguity  by 
the  reference  to  a  wrong  antecedent  should  he  impossible,  and  yet 
have  often  failed  in  the  attempt.  •  •  *  That  it  is  difficult  to 
avoid  all  obscurity  of  this  kind  I  am  ready  to  acknowledge.  It  can 
often  he  done  only  by  completely  chan<»-inji;  the  train  of  thought  and 
easting  it  into  another  form. — Letter  III,  Boston  Ed.  pp.  102—3. 


252 


OBJECTIVE    PHOPEHTIES. 


It  is  folly  to  pretend  to  arm  ourselves  against  the  acci- 
dents of  life,  by  heaping  up  treasures,  which  notliing  can 
protect  us  against,  but  the  good  providence  of  our  Heavenly 
Father. — Sherluck. 

Men  look  with  an  evil  eye  upon  the  good  that  is  in  others, 
and  think  that  (heir  reputation  obscures  them,  and  that  their 
commendable  qualities  do  stand  in  their  light;  and  therefore 
they  do  what  they  can  to  cast  a  cloud  over  them,  that  the 
bright  shining  of  their  virtues  may  not  obscure  them.  —  Til- 
lot  son. 

This  work  in  its  full  extent,  being  now  afflicted  with  an 
asthma,  and  finding  the  powers  of  life  gradually  declining, 
he  had  no  longer  courage  to  undertake. — Johnson. 

$  318.  In  respect  to  the  arrangement  of  the  mem- 
bers of  a  sentence,  clearness  requires 

1.  That  the  parts  of  the  complex  tl:oug-ht  be  pre- 
i.-.nted  in  their  relative  prorninencf  and  dependence; 

2.  That  the  related  clauses  be  kept  in  close  proxim- 
ity; and 

3.  That  the  oi-der  be  such  as  to  indicate  the  depen- 
dence and  connection. 

1.  Relation  of  hading  and  subordinate  thoughts. 
This  relation  is  not  regarded  in  the  following  sentences: 

After  we  came  to  anchor,  they  put  me  on  shore,  where  1 
was  welcomed  by  all  my  friends,  who  received  me  with  the 

greatest  kindness. 

In  this  sentencf  it  difficult  to  teFl  which  is  the  leading 
thought;  or  en  which  circumstance  the  writer  intended  to 
fix  the  attention  of  his  readers.  The  unity  of  the  sentence, 
by  the  failure  to  express  the  duo  suk>rdinatiuu  of  tiie  parts, 
is  destroyed.  The  same  fault  is  seen  in  the  following  sen- 
tences: 

The  L  ui;d  acceptation  takes  pKifit  and  pleasure  for  two 
iJifferent  things,  and  not  only  calls  (he  followers  yr  votarieu 


CLlwVIl.NKSS.  „j,„ 

of  them  by  several  names  of  busy  and  idle  men  bnt  Ai  r 
guishes  the  faculties  of  the  nund  that  are  conv^rsrntt  ui 
them,  calling  the  operations  of  the  first  wisdom,  and  oiZ 
other  wit  which  is  a  Saxon  word,  that  is  used  to  expre  s 
what  the  Spaniards  and  Italians  call  ivgenio,  and  the  French 
esprit  both  from  the  Latin;  but  1  think  wit  more  peculiarly 
signifies  that  ot  poetry,  as  may  occur  upon  remarks  on  the 
Runic  language. — Temple. 

He  is  supposed  to  have  fallen,  by  his  father's  death,  into 
the  hands  ot   ins  uncle,  a  vintner,  near  Charing  Cross   who 
sent  him  lor  some  time  to  Dr.  Busby,  at  Westminster-  but 
not  intending  to  give  him  any  education  bevond  that  of  the 
school,  took  him,  when  he  was  well  advanced  in  literature 
to  his  own  house,  where  the  Earl  of  Dorset,  celebrated  for 
patronage  of  genius,  found  him  by  chance,  as  Burnet  relates 
reading  Horace,  and   was   so   well   pleased  with   his  pro- 
ficiency, that  he  undertook  the  care  and  cost  of  his  academi- 
cal education. — Johnson's  Life,  of  Prior, 

2.  Proximity  of  related  clauses.  The  following  sen- 
tences oO'end  against  this  principle  >.f  clearness. 

The  moon  was  casting  a  pale  light  on  the  numerous 
graves  thut  were  scattered  before  me,  as  it  peered  above  the 
horizon,  when  I  opened  the  small  gate  of  the  church-yard. 

There  will,  therefore,  be  two  trials  in  this  town  at  that 
time,  which  are  punishable  with  death,  if  a  full  court  should 
attend. 

Mr.  Dryden  makes  a  very  handsome  observation  on 
Ovid's  writing  a  letter  from  Dido  to  .^neas,  in  the  follow- 
ing words. 

3.  Order  of  dependence.  In  the  following  sentences 
it  is  difficult  to  determine  which  is  the  subject  and  which 
Ihe  object  of  the  verb: 

And  thus  the  son  the  fervent  sire  addressed. 
Tiie  rising  tomb  a  lofty  column  bore. 
In  the  following,  the  dependence  of  the  Italicised  clause 
is  obscurely  represented: 

As  it  is  necessary  to  have  the  head  clear  as  well  &h  th« 

22 


A 


M  I 


254 


OBJECTIVE    PROPERTIES. 


complexion,  to  he  perfect  in  this  part  of  learning,  I  rarely 
mingle  with  the  men,  but  frequent  the  tea-tables  of  the  ladies. 

In  the  following  sentence  obscurity  is  occasioned  by  the 
position  of  the  relative  word  before  its  antecedent: 

When  a  man  declares  in  autumn,  when  he  is  eating  them, 
or  in  spring  when  there  are  none,  that  he  loves  grapes 

§  319.  Clearness  is  often  violated  by  the  introduc- 
tion of  long  parenthetical  clauses^  and  especially  of 
parentheses  containing  other  parentheses  within  them- 
selves. • 

The  writings  of  the  Apostle  Paul,  which  are  characterised 
more  by  energy  than  by  clearness,  are  remarkable  for  this 
introduction  of  long  and  involved  parentheses.  A  remark- 
able instance  occurs  in  his  epistle  to  the  P^phesians.  The  sub- 
ject of  the  verb  is  in  the  first  verse  of  the  third  chapter,  while 
the  verb  itself  is  in  the  first  verse  of  the  fourth.  The  follow- 
ing extracts  furnibh  further  exemplificatioTts  of  the  same  fault. 

It  was  an  ancient  tradition,  that  when  the  capitol  was 
founded  by  one  of  the  Roman  Kings,  the  god  Terminus, 
who  presided  over  boundaries,  and  was  represented  according 
to  the  fashion  of  that  age,  by  a  large  stone,  alone,  among 
all  the  inferior  deities,  refused  to  yield  his  place  to  Jupiter 
himself. — Gibbon's  Rome, 

The  description  Ovid  gives  of  his  situation,  in  that  first 
period  of  his  existence,  seems,  some  poetical  embellishments 
excepted,  such  as,  were  we  to  reason  a  priori,^  we  should 
conclude  he  was  placed  in. — Lancaster  on  Delicacy. 


,  I  rarely 

he  ladies. 

id  by  the 


ng  them, 
apes 

ntroduc 
ially  of 
in  them- 

'acteriscd 
'i  lor  this 
.  remark- 
The  sub- 
ter,  while 
le  follow- 
,me  fault. 

sitol  was 
'erniinus, 
iccording 
e,  among 
J  Jupiter 

that  first 
lishments 
re  should 
cy. 


ElMERGT.  265 

CHAPTER  TIL 

OP    ENERGY. 

$  320.  Energy  is  that  property  in  style  by  means 
of  which  the  thought  is  impressed  with  a  peculiar 
vividness  or  force  on  the  mind  addressed. 

This  property  of  style  has  been  variously  denominated, 
as  vivacity,  strength,  and  energy;  all  which  terms,  from 
tlieir  etymology,  point  at  once  to  the  nature  of  the  property 
designated  by  them. 

For  the  sake  of  clearness  it  will  be  convenient  to  consider 
this  property  in  respect  to  its  two  species;  as  secured  to 
style  in  accordance  with  the  other  properties,  or  only  by  a 
certain  deviation  from  these  properties.     See  §  306. 

§  321.  Energy  is  either />ro/>er  ox  figurative. 

Proper  energy  is  secured  to  style  in  accordance 
with  the  other  properties ; 

IiGURATivE  energy,  by  a  greater  or  less  deviation 
from  them. 

Without  going  out  of  the  range  of  the  other  properties 
ated,  it  is  obvious  style  may  be  more  or  less  modified 
in  accordance  with  their  principles  with  a  view  to  energetic 
etleet.  Such  modifications,  made  with  a  view  to  such  a 
vivid  injpression,  come  properly  under  consideration  under 
the  head  of  energy. 

But  discourse  admits  of  modifications  with  a  view  to 
energy,  which  are  not  properly  dictated  by  any  principles 
that  belong  to  these  other  properties.  It  is  often  turned 
from  the  direction  in  which  it  would  flow  if  those  properties 
alone  controlled  it.     The  verbal  expression  of  thought  m 


256 


OBJECTIVE    PROPERTIES. 


thus  turned  from  its  natural  course   is  termed  fgurattve 
expression. 

$  322.  Proper  energy  depends  on  the  kind  of  words 
employed,  the  number  and  the  arrangement  of  them 
in  the  sentence. 

$  323.  Energy  requires,  in  respect  to  the  kinds  of 
words  employed,  that 
Those  of  Anglo-Saxon  origin,  be  preferred  to  others ; 
Those  of  national  and  j)opular  use  to  barbarisms, 
whether  foreign  or  technical ;  and 

The  more  specific  to  the  more  generic  and  abstract. 
It  is  unnecessary  to  add  to   the  remarks   already  made 
under  the  head  of  clearness,  §  312,  in  order  to  illustrate  the 
trutli  and  importance  of  lliis  principle  of  style.     It  is  suffi- 
cient to  observe  here  that  style  admits  of  great  modifications 
in  respect  to  the  kind  of  words  habitually  employed  by  the 
speaker,  and  that  even  great  energy  of  thouglit  may  be  lost 
in  the  selection  of  words  that  are  wanting  in  this  element 
of  expression.     It  cannot,  therefore,,  be  too  earnestly  enjoin- 
ed on  the  forming  speaker  to  study  those  authors  assidu- 
cusly  who  are  distinguished  for  their  vse  of  Anglo-Saxon, 
the  strictly  vernacular  and  the  specific  Avords  of  our  lan- 
guage.    It  will  generally  be  found  tliat  the  same  taste  and 
the  same  training  which  have  led  to  the  habitual  preference 
of  one  of  these  classes  of  words,  have  made,  also,  the  others 
most  familiar  and  pleasing.     Care  should  be  taken  to  make 
these  classes  of  words  forn»  the  body  of  sound, — tl^e  material 
in  which  the  thoughts  most  easily  and  spontaneously  invest 
themselves.     That  this  is  practicable  is  proved  by  the  fact 
that  men  learn  universally  to  think  in  the  language  which  is 
spoken  around  them.     As  we  have  authors  which  are  char- 
acterised by  this   excellence  and   others   which  abound  ia 


KNKROT.  2J.J, 

Latin  and  FrencI,  words  and  irti„m»,  it  i,  „h,i„„, ,,  ^ 
mor  should  be  habitually  s.udied  and  comniiUed  toJ 
while  the  <..,l,e.  should  U  lef.  for  n,atur:I<,  7"^' 
versafon  generally  prefe.s  A„gl„.S„x„n  words.  I've,,  d"' 
Johnson  himself,  i„  „,e  ,an,.li..,,y  „„d  ,„„,^^,„^^^  ^  ; 
ord,„ary  conversaUon,  en.ployed  Anglo-Saxon  words,  wh  h 
.n  rs  wr..  en  d  .course  he  u„h„ppi,,  „„,„„,,j  j^,^  ]^ 
.zed  d,aleo  .♦  Hence  the  study  of  language  as  en,ploy  d  1 
common  h,e  ,s  h.ghly  uselul  to  the  orator  in  this  respect 

i  324.  In  respect  to  Ihe  member  of  ,oords,  the  pri„. 
ciph,  of  energy  ,s,  that  the  utn.ost  brevity  consiLnt 
wtth  clearttess  and  with  the  other  principles  of  enegy 
be  preserved.  '""'S/j 

In  the  application  of  this  principle,  not  only  redundant 
words  and  phrases  are  to  be  avoided,  but,  also,  the  n.ore 
direct  and  sn„ple  forms  of  expression  are  to  be  preferred  to 
the  more  crcuitous  and  prolix.  Hence,  often,  the  sentence 
should  be  wholly  re-cast. 

oil'-"  '"""""''''  '°""'""'  "™  '''"'"^'  '"  "'P''' '"  ""'  P'i"- 

I  went  home  full  of  a  great  many  serious  reflections. 
I  shall  suppose,  then,  in  order  to  try  to  account  for  (t, 
vjs™^^ut^,^,^,hat  as  SauKnd  1™!!;,*; 
•  Mae»„lay,  in  an  ..rtWe  in  ,l,e  Kdinl,„,;|,  ReVle;.  f^sgl,  ri^T, 

of   he  bed  on  „h,cb  one  of  as  w»s  to  lie."    I„  r.cnris  .hfc  |„eide„ 
In  In,  Journey  ,o  ,he  H.,„.ides  ,h„s;  .-Ou,  of  „„e  of  ,„e  beds  on 
.h.h  «e  „.ere  ,„  rop«,,  started  up  a,  „„r  entrance,  a  ,„„  ,J,,ek 

'  Th„  l^t"    r.  '""  '°''°"''-"     ^""■""■»=^  '-  '""*"«'  "load 
"TheEel,ear«.I,"  he  »,id,  "hasno,,,!,  enougl,  to  keep  it  sweet;" 

p.Xto:.'"™"""  "■"  ""'  ^"'"»^"-«-  «»  P— eU  fro'n. 

22* 


•.Ai 


±^  . 


258 


OnJKCTI 


PROP        TIEB. 


'^%h 


?     r 


"Mid 


/f       ,11 


:>.:   I 


u  ere  jnurneyinp^  along  in  their  way  to  Damascus,  a^   ix« 
traordiimry  rucl        leally  did  liupppn. 

Neither  is  any  condition  ol'  lilc  mure  IionjraUe  in  the 
sight  oT  God  than  another,  ofhervvise  he  would  be  a  respec.ter 
of  per<j(His,  which  he  assures  us  he  is  not. 

It  will  often  be  greatly  r  -iducive  to  the  er'rgetic  effect 
of  the  whole  expression^  aftii  nuving  presented  the  thought 
for  the  sake  of  clearness  in  a  more  extended  '  *n,  to  repeat 
it  in  a  more  condensed  sentence. 

The  following  extract  from  Buike  will  f  irnish  an  exem- 
plification: 

When  the  old  feudal  and  chivalrous  spirit  of  fealty, 
which,  by  treeing  kings  from  fear,  freed  both  kings  and 
subjects  from  the  precaution  of  tyranny,  shall  be  extinct  in 
the  minds  of  men,  plots  and  assassinations  will  be  anticipated 
by  preventive  murder  and  preventive  confiscation,  and  that 
long  roll  of  grim  and  bloody  maxims,  which  form  the  poli- 
tical code  of  all  power,  not  standing  on  its  own  honor,  and 
the  honor  of  tlmse  who  are  to  obey  it.  Kings  will  be 
tyrants  from,  policy,  when  subjects  are  rebels  from  prin- 
ciple. 

$  325.  Energy,  in  the  arrangement  of  the  parts  of 
a  sentence,  depends, 

First,  On  the  preservation  of  unity  in  the  general 
form  of  the  sentence ; 

Secondly,  On  the  right  disposition  of  the  capital 
words  and  members ;  and 

Thirdly,  On  the  disposition  of  coordinate  or  correla- 
tive words  or  members. 

§  326.  Unity  in  a  sentence  is  preserved  by  the  pre- 
sentation of  but  one  leading  subject,  §  318,  and  by 
the  binding  together  of  all  the  parts  in  one  compact 
whole. 


The  firsl 
cientlv  con 

The  sec( 
$  2(J9,  in  , 
placed  last 
whole. 

The  folic 

While  a; 
part  of  Vir 
part  of  Hel 

l^>r  as   f 
faculties,  so 
forbid  (hat 
the  supreint 
in  the  servii 

There  is  \ 
is  horrible  ( 
cite  disgust, 
the  sacrtdne 
aj)rsf;ife.s  to 
as  the  one 
must  look  rt 
anticipate  it; 

$  327.  '{ 
bcini^  the  ( 
should,  wh 
given  to  (Ik 

This  print 
with  circum 
give  them  ar 
course,  such 
duce  to  "lear 
oratory  thcv 
observed,   vvl 


I 


I 


ENiiiu-y. 


259 


Tlje  first  element  „f  „„i,^  i,e„  „,e„ti„„rd  has  b<..„     « 
Tho  second  „p|,ea,.    in  ».,|ein  ,1.  ,,e,i,.,ilo  alrncn., 
plaoeU  ,a,t,  b.nds  ,he   ,v„„,e   ,.,,H,,er   into  „„e   .:,:;::*; 
Tl,e  roll.nving  are  example,  „f  the  ,,„iudic  »ir„ef„re- 

For  as    n,ult  nover  rose  from  a  true  use  of  our  ratio.nl 

facul  ...s,  so  It  ,s  very  frerjuentlv  subversive  of  t  en,      f    J 

orb.d  ,hat  pn.cleuce,  the  first  of  all  ,l.e  v  r    e     a  sucl^  .^ 

he  supreme  chrector  of  then,  all,  should  ever  b'e  e„  ,      'd 

Ki  the  service  ot  any  of  the  \icea.— Burke.  ^"^P'''}ctl 

There  is  sou.olhin.-  in  the  present  business,  with  all  that 
IS  horrible  to  create  aversion,  so  vilelv  loafhs  ,me,  as  to  ex 
Cite  d,so.„st.     It  IS   n,v  lords,  surely  s.iperiiuous  to  d  v  1    oi 
the  sacrcdness  ot  the  ties,  vvhieh  those  aliens  to  fceliur  I  ose 
ap.s  ates  to  humanity  thus  divided.     In  such  an  Snblv 
as  the  one  before  which  I  speak,  there  is  not  an  ey     but 
Hiusf  look  reproof   to  their  conduct ;-not  a  heart  burmus 
u.itic.pate  its  condeinnafion.--.S7/cnV/..„.  ^"'  "'"'^ 

§  327.  Tile  most  conspicnoiis  parts  of  the  sentence 
bcinir  the  comniencoinont  and  the  close,  these  parts 
should,  when  energy  of  expression  is  aimed  at,  be 
given  to  the  capital  or  loading  words  and  members. 

This  principle  forbids  commencing  or  closing  a  sentence 
with  circumstantial  words  or  clauses,  unless  it  is  desired  to 
give  them  aa  emphatic  dislinction.  In  merely  didactic  dis- 
course, such  clauses  are  admissible  because  they  often  con- 
duce to  "iearness  and  readiness  of  apprehension.  In  earnest 
oratory  they  can  never  be  justified  except,  as  has  been  just 
observed,   when  they  are    made   emphatic.     In  this  case, 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-S) 


«? 


1.0 


I.I 


11.25 


|50     ■■"'= 


1.4 


M 

12.2 

IM 

1.6 


P^fv 


<^ 


/a 


>> 


#. 


''W'3 


'^> 


PVir^innrarihip 

Sdences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


.^. 


>  m^. 


<p 


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m2- 


%^^ 


fc 


^ 


f> 


260 


OBJECTIVE    PROPERTIITS. 


placing  them  at  the  beginning  or   the  dose  at  once  give* 
thein  a  hi"-h  degree  of  force  and  impressiveness. 

We  find  in  the  Latin  language  a  happy  exenipiification 
of  this  principle  of  energy.  When  Mucins  Scaevola  in 
Livy  wisl.es  to  turn  the  attention  of  Porsenna  on  the  fact 
tliat  he  was  a  Roman^  he  says,  Romanus  sum  civis.  On 
the  other  hand,  when  Gavius  in  Cicero's  oration  against 
Verres  was  urging  his  rights  as  a  citizen,  not  merely  as  a 
Roman,  he  i,ays,  Civis  Romanus  sum.  Although  the  words 
are  the  same,  the  leading  thought  being  different  in  tlie  two 
cases,  Livy  places  one  word  at  the  beginning  of  the  sen- 
tence, and  Cicero  another;  and  both  clearly  from  mere 
reference  to  energetic  effect. 

The  following  sentences  are  faulty  in  this  respect: 

The  other  species  of  motion  are  incidentally  blended  also. 

Every  nature  you  perceive  is  either  too  excellent  to  want 
it,  or  too  base  to  be  capable  of  it. 

Seeing  the  delay  of  repentance  doth  mainly  rely  upon  the 
hopes  and  encouragement  of  a  future  repentance,  let  us  con- 
sider a  little  how  unreasonable  these  iiopes  are,  and  how 
absurd  the  encouragement  is  which  men  take  from  them. 

But  it  is  absurd  to  think  of  judging  either  Ariosto  or 
Spenser  by  precepts  which  they  did  not  attend  to.—  Watson. 

There  need  no  more  than  to  make  such  a  registry  only 
voluntary,  to  avoid  all  the  difficulties  tiiat  can  be  raised, 
and  which  are  not  too  captious  or  too  trivial  to  take  notice 
of.- -Temple. 

In  like  manner,  if  a  person  in  broad  day-light  were  falling 
asleep,  to  introduce  a  sudden  darkness  would  prevent  his 
sleep  for  that  time,  though  silence  and  darkness  in  them- 
selves, and  not  suddr  uly  introduced,  are  very  favorable  to  it. 
Tins  I  know  only  by  conjecture  on  the  analogy  of  the 
senses  when  I  first  digested  these  observations;  but  I  have 
fince  experienced  it. — Burke, 


ENERGY. 


261 


The  following  extracts,  on  the  other  hand,  furnish  instan- 
ces of  this  kind  of  energy : 

In  their  prosperity  my  frienas  shall  never  hear  of  me;  in 
their  adversity,  always. 

True  liberty,  in  my  opinion,  can  only  exist  when  justice 
is  equally  administered  to  all,  to  the  king,  and  to  the  beggar. 

Never,  so  clearly  as  in  the  present  instance^  have  I  ob- 
served that  safeguard  of  justice  which  Providence  has  placed 
in  the  nature  of  man. 

No:  I  am  no  emissary — my  ambition  was  to  hold  a  place 
amono-  the  deliverers  of  my  country — not  in  power,  not  in 
profit,  but  in  the  glory  of  the  achievement!  Sell  my 
country's  independence  to  France!  and  for  what?  A 
clianue  of  masters?     No:  but  for  ambition! 

Under  this  species  of  ergy  may  be  ranked  what  has 
been  denominated  the  Climax;  or  that  structure  of  the  sen- 
tence in  which  the  different  members  succeed  each  other  in 
Older  of  strength  or  importance,  the  most  impressive  being 
placed  last. 

The  iulhnving  are  examples: 

In  the  middle  of  the  day,  at  the  moment  of  divine  wor- 
ship, when  the  miserable  husband  was  on  his  knees,  direct- 
ing the  prayers  and  the  thanksgivings  of  his  congregation 
to^lheir  God — that  moment  did  the  remorseless,  &c. 

Impose  upon  m.e  whatever  hardships  you  please;  give  me 
nothing  but  the  breid  of  sorrow  to  eat;  take  from  me  the 
friend  In  wlu)m  I  had  placed  my  confidence;  lay  me  in  the 
cold  hut  of  poverty  and  on  the  thorny  bed  of  disease;  set 
before  me  death  in  all  its  terrors;  do  all  this,  only  let  me 
trust  in  mv  Savior,  and  I  will  fear  no  evil— 1  will  rise 
superior  to  "affliction— I  will  rejoice  in  my  tribulation. 

$  328.  Ill  the  arrangement  of  the  sentence,  further, 
coordinate  and  correlative  words  and  members  should 
be  placed  in  corresponding  parts,  so  as  to  answer  to  each 
other  and  reflt  H  on  each  other,  so  to  speak,  their  own 
force. 


262 


OBJECT!  V i:    I' IIOPK IIT I ES. 


The  Latin  and  Greek  languages,  through  the  variety  of 
their  inflections,  admitted  this  species  of  energy  to  a  much 
greater  degree  than  most  modern  tongues.  Cicero  says  that 
the  following  expression  drew  forth  wonderful  applause  from 
the  audience; 

Patris  dictum  sapiens,  temeritas  filii  cornprobavit.* 

The  following  are  from  his  orations;  the  first  from  that 
for  Ligarius,  the  second  from  the  oration  for  Roscius 
Amerinus: 

Nihil  habet  nee  fortuna  tua  majus  quam  ut  possis,  nee 
natura    tua  melius    quam    ut    velis,    conservare  plurimos. 

Accusant  ii,  qnibus  occidi  patrem  Sexti  Roscii  bono  fuit; 
causum  dicit  is,  cui  non  modo  luctum  mors  patiis  attulit, 
verum  etiam  egestatem.  Accusant  ii,  qui  hunc  ipsum 
jugulare  summe  cupierunt;  causam  dicit  is,  qui  etiam  ad 
hoc  ibidem  ante  ocuios  vestros  trucidetur. 

In   our  own  language,  the  following  sentences  may  be 

given  as  illustrations: 

Never  before  were  so  many  opposing  interests,  passions, 
and  principles  committed  to  such  a  decision.  On  one  side 
an  attachment  to  the  ancient  order  of  things,  on  the  other  a 
passionate  desire  of  change;  a  wish  in  some  to  perpetuate, 

*  Orator,  63.  Hoc  dichorco  tantiis  clamor  concionis  excitiitus 
est.  ut  admirabile  est.  If  tlie  dou})le  trochee  at  tlie  close  had  its 
eflfect,  it  is  yet  questionable  whether  the  energy  of  the  expression 
is  not  owing  still  more  to  the  admirable  arrangement  of  tlie  words, 
which  are  made  most  perfectly  to  answer  to  each  other.  *  Pa- 
tris'  and  'filii*  are  at  the  extremes;  'sapiens*  and  'temeritas* 
in  the  middle  in  juxta-position,  and  tiie  one  at  the  close,  the  other 
at  the  commencement  of  the  respective  members  to  which  they 
belong;  and  the  un -related  word  'dictum'  thrown  as  far  as  pos- 
sible out  of  view.  The  whole  sentence  is  bound  together  by  the 
verb,  which  as  the  most  important  word,  occupies  the  last  place 
in  the  sentence.  We  have,  besides,  the  inversion  of  the  object 
before  the  subject.  To  all  this  is  to  bo  added  the  harmony  of  the 
whole.    There  is  here  a  combination  of  many  excellencies  of  style. 


ENERGY. 


263 


in  others  (o  df^stroy  every  thing;  every  abuse  sacred  in  the 
eyes  of  the  lorrner,  every  fouudatiou  attempted  to  be  demo- 
lished by  the  latter;  a  jealousy  of  power  shiiukiug  fioiu  the 
sliohtest  iauovation,  preteusiuus  to  freedom  pushed  tu  mad- 
ness and  anarchy ;  superstition  in  all  its  dotage^  impiety  ia 
all  its  fury. 

Sullen  and  severe  without  religion,  profligate  without 
gaiety,  you  live  like  Charles  the  Second,  without  being  an 
amiable  companion;  and,  for  aught  I  know,  may  die,  as  his 
father  did,  without  the  reputation  of  a  martyr. 

§  329.  As,  frequently,  it  may  be  desired  to  weaken 
and  soften  rather  than  to  fr*  -^ngthen  the  expression, 
this  object  may  be  effected,  for  the  most  part,  by  means 
iust  the  reverse  of  those  which  have  been  prescribed 
for  imparting  energy. 

The  Eno-lish  language,  from  the  very  heterogeneo.'sness 
of  its  ori'i-in,  allows  more  than  most  other  languages  this 
variation  in  the  degrees  of  energy.  The  same  object  may 
be  represented  by  a  skillful  orator  in  the  strongest  vividness 
and  force  or  in  the  most  indifferent  tameness,  simply  by 
means  of  a  different  selection  from  those  w^ords  w^bich  are 
grammatically  proper  to  the  object.  Here  belong  those  ex- 
pressions usually  denominated  Euphemisms,  w'hich  are 
employed  to  soften  or  weaken  the  impression  made  by  the 
more  appropriate  representation.  The  following  are  exem- 
plifications: 

1.  In  the  kind  of  words:  The  toast  concludes  with  a 
patriotic  wish  for  all  his  persuasion,  by  the  consummation 
of  which  there  can  be  no  doubt  the  hempen  manufactures  of 
this  country  would  experience  a  very  considerable  con- 
sumption. 

For  vvhen  the  restless  Greeks  sat  down 
So  many  years,  before  Troy  town,^ 
And  were  renowned,  as  Homer  writes. 
For  well-soaled  boots,  no  less  than  fight* 


264 


OBJ  C ( '  i"  I V I ;    r  !J O  P  K 11 T I E8. 


2.  In  the  niunber  of  words: 

They  did  that  which  every  master  would  have  wished  hii 
■ervauts  to  do  in  such  an  exigency:  instead  of,  they  killed 
Clodius. 

3.  In  the  arrangement  of  words: 
Parturiunt  montes,  nascetur  ridicalus  mus. 

§  330.  Figurative  energy  is  founded  either, 

1.  On  the  kind  and  number  of  words  employed; 

2.  On  the  representative  imagery ;  or, 

3.  On  the  structure  of  the  sentence. 

The  most  strictly  philosophical  treatment  of  figurative 
energy,  as  well  as  also  of  clearness,  would  represent  it  in 
the  light  of  the  absolute  and  subjective  properties  of  style, 
and  follow  the  method  furnished  by  the  analysis  of  those 
properties.  But  both  to  prevent  repetition  and  for  conven- 
ience and  simplicity,  it  may,  perhaps,  better  be  exhibited 
under  the  three  heads  named  abo  e. 

$  331.  Those  forms  of  figurative  energy  .Aich  de- 
pend on  the  kind  of  words  employed,  are  denominated 
Tropes^  which  may  be  defined  as  follows : 

A  Tropk  is  a  word  employed  for  the  sake  of  energy 
in  a  different  import  from  that  which  is  proper  to  it. 

It  is  obvious  to  remark  that  tropes  are  founded  on  the 
etymological  properties  of  language.  They  are  figurative 
uses  of  the  'proper  import  of  words.  A  tropical  impro- 
priety  is  denominated  a  cataohresis. 

$  322.  Tropes  impart  energy  to  style  by  represent- 
ing the  object  in  a  more  individual  or  sensible  form 
than  the  proper  denomination  of  it ;  as  sceptre  instead 
of  dominion  ;  Homer  instead  of  the  Homeric  poems ; 
Britain  instead  oi  the  government  of  Great  Britain. 


ENHRGY. 


265 


$  333.  Tropes  may  be  distributed  into  two  classes 
according  as  they  are  founded  on  a  direct  resemblance 
of  properties,  or  an  indirect  resemblance  or  similarity 
of  relations. 

The  former  class  may  be  denominated  simple 
tropes  ;  the  latter  are  called  metaphors. 

All  tropes  are  tbunded  on  resemblance,  or,  more  philoso- 
phically speaking,  on  a  more  or  less  perfect  identity.     This 
partial  identity  or  resemblance  can  always  be  traced  even 
in  the  most  remote  cases.     When  we  say,  thus,  "  The  cres- 
cent wanes,"  instead  of,  "The  Mohammedan  power  declines," 
we  lirst  conceive  of  the  flag  of  that  power  from  its  charac- 
teristic symbol;  and  then  of  the  power  itself  froii  the  flag 
which  represents  it;  and  in  both  cases  the  conception  is 
founded  on  a  species  of  local  identity.     The  place  of  the 
crescent  is  in  the  flag;  and  of  the  flag  with  the  presence  of 
the  power  or  authority.     Without  this  identity,  the  mind 
has  no  power  to  conceive  of  the  object  represented.     If  the 
identity  respect  only  one  or  two  obscure  particulars,  or,  in 
other  words,  if  the  resemblance  be  but  faint  and  dim,  the 
trope  is  catachrestic — harsh  and  far-fetched.    The  explana- 
tion of  tropical  energy  is  hence  obvious.     By  the  trope,  the 
mind  addressed  is  placed  in  a  certain  place  or  time  or  ana- 
logous relation,  from  which  it  views  the  object  represented; 
as  in  the  trope  *"  a  boisterous  multitude,'  the  mind  is  referred 
to  a  furious  wind  swelling  and  roaring,  and  in  that  sensible 
image  perceives  the  characteristic  given  in  the  epithet  to  thf 
'multitude.' 

Hence,  when  a  word  originally  tropical  ceases,  from 
familiar  use,  to  call  up  the  sensible  or  singular  object  or 
ecene  to  which  it  properly  refers,  it  loses  its  tropical  charac* 


it) 


23 


266 


OBJECTIVK    PROPERTIED 


ten     Such  is  the  tendency  in  the  progress  of  language  with 

all  tropes. 

Here  we  find  the  explanation  of  the  fact  that  the  same 
discourse  pleases  an  imaginative  mind  skilled  in  the  use  of 
language  and  accustomed  to  refer  the  words  to  the  sensible 
object  which  they  originally  lepresented,  that,  to  another 
mind,  seems  wholly  destitute  of  beauty.  Here,  too,  is  found 
the  explanation  of  the  peculiar  energy  and  beauty  of  that 
species  of  style  which  puts  the  imagination  of  the  reader 
constantly  in  the  way  of  making  this  reference. 

These  general  observations  apply  with  equal  force  to  the 
second  class  of  figures  or  those  founded  on  the  representa- 
tive imagery. 

§  334.  Simple  Tropes  are  of  two  species  ; 

Those  ill  which  the  objects  compared  dinier  in  degree, 
and  those  in  which  the  objects  diller  in  khid. 

A  trope  of  the  formej-  species  is  termed  a  synecdoche, 
as  "Cicero"  instead  of  "orator;"  "a  sail"  for  "a  ves- 
sel." 

A  trope  of  the  latter  species  is  called  a  metonymy  ; 
as  "  the  father  of  Jupiter'*  for  "Saturn  ;"  "the  grave" 
for  "death." 

$  335.  Synecdoche  is  a  trope  in  which  either  the 
part  is  put  for  the  whole,  or  a  species  or  individual  for 
the  class. 

Examples  of  the  former  variety  are; 
**England  is  still  flourishing  for  the  instruction  of  the 
world,"  lor  "Great  Britain." — Mirabcau. 
**By  thousands,'"  for  "great  numbers." 

The  following  are  instances  of  the  latter  variety: 
Romanus  proelio  victor,  for  Ronianu 


ENKllOY. 


267 


Some  village  llampdan  that,  with  dauntless  breast. 
The  little  tyrant  of  his  iields  withstood; 
Some  mute  inglorious  Milton  here  may  rest. 
Some  Cromwell,  guiltless  of  his  country s  blood. 

So  thought  the  countries  of  Demosthenes  and  the  Spartan: 
yet  Leonidas  is  trampled  by  tiie  timid  slave,  &c. 

$  336.  When  the  whole  is  put  for  a  part,  or  the  class 
for  the  species  or  individual,  the  trope  is  still  called  a 
synecdoche.  In  this  case,  for  the  most  part,  the  energy 
of  the  expression  is  w^eakened. 

'To  appropriate  to  one's  self,'  is  more  general  language 
and  less  forcible  than  '  to  steal/  '  He  went  to  his  rest,'  is 
a  softer  expression  than  '  he  died.*  The  use  of  the  plural 
**  we  "  is  thus  less  egotistical  than  the  singular  "  I." 

On  the  other  hand,  when  the  general  essence  is  put  for 
the  individual  concrete  the  trope  is  often  highly  energetic; 
as,  "gold  "  for  "  the  money  "  made  from  it,  as,  'Paid  my 
price  in  paltry  gold/  '  Freedom  shrieked/  for  '  the  friends 
of  freedom/ 

$  337,  A  METONYMY  is  a  trope  in  which  the  object 
is  represented  by  a  word  properly  applied  to  something 
else  that  differs  in  kind  from  the  represented  object. 

The  additional  energy  imparted  to  the  expression  by  this 
trope  is  owing  to  the  circumstance  that  the  object  is  repre- 
sented by  means  of  one  more  familiar,  or  more  readily 
conceived,  in  consequence  of  its  being  single  or  cognizable 
by  the  senses. 

The  different  varieties  of  this  trope  may  be  thus  classified: 

1.  Cause  represented  by  the  effect  or  vice  versa;  as  "  gray 
hairs  "  for  "  old  age  ";  "  Milton"  for  Milton's  writings." 

This  variety  is  ultimately  founded  on  identity  of  time,  as 
tbe  following  is  on  that  of  place. 


IflMiJ-' 


868 


OnJKCTlVK    PHOFKlfl'II^S. 


i'Wf, 


;  "r^  -^n^l 


2.  Substance  by  quality,  property,  or  accident,  and  vic§ 
versa;  as,  "  the  sun"  tor  "  (he  heat  of  the  sun  ";  "  Brutus  * 
for  "  iuilexiblc  tirinness  "j  **  wealth  counts  its  cattle  "  for 
"  the  man  of  wealth." 

Here  belongs  the  metonymy  of  the  sign  for  the  thing  sig- 
nified, and  the  reverse;  as  'scepter'  for  'dominion/ 

3.  The  time,  for  what  existed  or  transpired  in  it,  and  vice 
versa;  as,  *  antiquity  '  for  'the  men  of  antiquity/  'poster- 
ity '  for  '  the  future.' 

Under  this  variety  is  included  the  metonymy  founded  on 
proximity  of  time. 

4.  The  place,  for  what  is  in  it  or  associated  with  it,  and 
vice  versa;  as  'Greece'  for  'the  Greeks';  'the  forum'  for 
'a  judicial  tribunal,'  or  'judicial  business.' 

$  338.  A  MKTAPFioii  is  a  trope  in  which  the  repre- 
sentation of  the  object  is  eflected  by  the  use  of  a  word 
properly  denotinjj  something  analogous;  and  is  founded 
on  a  resemblance  or  identity  of  relations. 

A  nietiiphor  being  founded  on  an  identity  of  relation  is 
by  this  distinguiahed  from  simple  tropes,  §  333.  The 
nature  of  the  nietaphor  may  be  seen  from  the  following 
illustrations: 

"Time  had  ploughed  his  venerable  front." — The  word 
"  ploughed  "  is  here  used  metaphorically.  The  use  of  it  is 
justified  on  the  ground  of  the  analogy  of  the  efiect  of  literal 
ploughing  to  that  of  time.  In  other  words,  what  the  driving 
of  the  plough  is  to  the  soil,  time  was  to  the  forehead.  The 
resemblance  on  which  the  metaphor  is  founded  is  obviously 
one  of  relation  and  not  of  properties. 

O!  when  the  growling  winds  contend,  and  all 

The  sounding  forest  fluctuates  in  the  storm. 

To  sink  in  warm  repose  and  hear  the  din 

Howl  o'er  the  steady  battlements — 


ENKRGY. 


269 


There  is  in  these  lines  an  accumulation  of  metaphors,  all 
clearly  distinguishable  by  the  characteristic  named  from 
the  simple  trope.  The  winds  are  said  to  growl  from  the 
aualdgy  of  the  elTect  on  the  mind  to  the  growls  of  a  wolf. 
What  growling  is  to  the  wolf,  the  noise  of  the  storm  is  to 
the  wind.  So  the  motion  of  the  forest  is  to  the  trees  what 
the  jlHctudtion  of  the  water  is  to  the  waving  sea.  The 
same  remark  is  applicable  to  'the  howling  of  the  din  over 
the  battlement/  It  is  to  be  observed  that  in  the  first  and  last 
of  these  metaphors  there  is,  besides  the  metaphor,  also,  the 
figure  of  personification. 

The  metaphor  often  contains  in  itself  a  simple  trope,  as 
in  the  following  examples: 

Metaphors  of  Synecdoche;  "A  sea  of  troubles,"  for  **a 
multitude  of  troubles." 

Apollo  bade  me  check  my  fond  desire. 

Nor  on  the  vast  Tyrrhenian  spread  my  little  sail. 

In  this  last  instance,  the  *  Tyrrhenian'  is  a  synecdoche 
for  any  large  sea;  and  it  is  likewise  used  metaphorirdUy,— 
the  vast  sea  being  to  a  little  bark  what  epic  themes  were  to 
the  lyric  spirit  of  Horace. 

Metaphors  of  metonymy.     1.  Cause  and  effect. 

Bears  his  blushing  honors  thick  upon  him. 
Streatning  Grief  his  faded  cheek  bedewed. 

Grief  is  here  put  for  the  effijct  and  is  characterised  meta- 
phorically as  streaming. 
2.  Substance  and  property. 

Or  have  ye  chosen  this  place 
After  the  toils  of  battle,  to  repose 
Your  wearied  virtue? 

**  Virtue  "  is  here  used  for  the  persons  to  whom  itbelongi^ 
end  "  wearied  virtue  "  is  a  metaphor. 

23* 


270 


OBJECTIVE    rilOPKIlTlRS. 


3.  Time;  as,  MariM  clime;  'Sinniner  life'  for  'agree- 
able life.' 

4.  Place.     'Bleeding  bosom'  for 'grieving  heart,.' 

§  330.  Fijruiativc  eiKMjry  as  dcinMuliiip^  ou  llie  nunir 
her  of  words  consists  in  a  repetition  or  an  onii.^sion  of 
certain  wonls  which  the  ordinary  forms  of  expression 
do  not  admit  or  rerjuire. 

$  310.  This  class  of  figures  includes  Figurative 
Repetition  and  Ellipsis. 

Figurative  repetition  includes  epizenxis  where 
the  word  is  immediately  repeated  without  any  intervening 
word  or  clause,  as,  "The  inlri)ducers  of  the  now-established 
principles  of  political  economy  may  fairly  be  considered  to 
have  made  a  great  discovery;  a  discovery  the  more  credit- 
able," &c.;  and  epanalepsis,  wlure  a  word  or  clause  inter- 
venes, as,  "The  persecutions  undergone  by  the  Apostles 
furnished  both  a  trial  to  their  faith,  and  a  conla-mation  to 
ours:  a  trial  to  them,"  &c. 

The  repetition  of  connectives  belongs  to  this  class,  and  is 
called  Polysyndeton;  as,  "Such  a  man  might  fall  a  victim 
to  power;  but  truth  and  reason  and  liberty  would  fall  with 
him." 

And  the  kings  of  the  earth,  and  the  great  men,  and  the 
rich  men,  and  the  chief-captains,  and  the  mighty  men,  and 
every  bond-man,  and  every  freeman,  hid  themselves  in  the 
dens  and  in  the  rocks  of  the  mountains. 

Ellipsis  is  the  omission  of  a  word  or  words  which  would 
be  supplied  in  the  ordinary  form  of  expression;  as. 

Hereditary  bondmen!  know  ye  not. 

Who  would  be  free,  themselves  must  strike  the  blow? 

The  Ellipsis  of  connectives  is  termed  asyndeton;  fu, 
Vnoi,  vidi,  vici. 


r 

s 


I' 


ENERGY.  271 

5  :MI.  Thoso  forms  of  figurative  energy  which  de- 
pend on   the  represcnlutive  imagery  include   liueo 

''^'T^  Tliose  figures  which  consist  in  a  change  of  the 
nature  or  relaUoiis  of  the  represented  ohject ; 

2.  Those  which  consist  in  comparison  or  contrast; 

^\   Those  which  consist  in  a  deviation  from  the  or- 
dinary mode  of  expressing  tiie  mental  condition  of  the 

speaker. 

.  342.  The  Hrst  class  of  representative  figures  m- 
eludes    those    of    vision,   personification,     and    hy- 

perhole. 

Vision  is  a  figure  in  which  the  object  although  really 
remote  is  represented  as  present  in  tin.e  or  place. 

This  fi,n,re,  which  is  founded  on  a  represented  change  m 

the  relatulus  of  the  object  to  time  or  place,  is  exceedingly 

connnon;  and  is  found  in  style  of  all  degrees  ot  energy  and 

1  Ti.A  fiiUowin"-  are  illustrations: 

vehemence.      1  he  nniow  uij,  uiu 

1  .  !,;«  fnrrcs  were  collected  with  the  utmost 

He  was  chosen:  las  torccs  weic  ^  i 
lie  »<ii3  towards   Cvrrha.     o\xi  now, 

f  ^"",r.;,  ^cH     :  l^r^-d  Ser  to  tl,^  Cy.rbeans  or  the 

'";.  „„hnp,>y  .nan.  -e-d  as  He  «.s^^^^^^^^^^ 

for  hi,s  ..alive  co.u.try,  is  ''™'S'''„''e„Ince  distorted  «ith 

cm.e  to  Sicl.v  as  a  spy .-6.ee™  a  a. 

^^^•'""^■^'  ;!:;„\^olrT:...^::rn,  to'mi  t,.  puc. 
^Xirr:;o:ii,u.urt.a"te.he.w^^^^^^^^^ 

where  we  are  passing,  and  soon  shall  have  p 


272 


OBJECTIVE    FRGPERTIES. 


human  duration.  We  bid  you  welcome  to  this  pleasoni 
land  of  the  Fathers.—  Webster. 

The  figure  in  this  last  example  is  specifically  denomina- 
Ted  an  apostrophe.  It  is  in  truth,  however,  a  combination 
of  vision  and  apostrophe.   §  344. 

Personification  is  a  figure  in  which  inanimate 
objects  and  qualities  are  represented  as  living  beings. 

This  likewise,  is,  a  very  common  figure.  Indeed,  as 
many  words  in  every  language  which  were  originally  ap 
plied  to  inanimate  objects  or  mere  qualities  only  figurative- 
ly, have,  by  use,  dropped  their  personifying  character  and 
are  regarded  as  proper  terms;  so,  likewise,  phrases  and 
extended  forms  of  representative  imagery  have  become  the 
ordinary  and  proper  mc'es  of  representation. 

It  is  often   conjoined   with  vision,  and  especially,  with 

apostrophe. 

But  look,  the  morn,  in  russet  mantle  clad, 
Waiks  o'er  the  dew  of  yon  high  eastward  hill. 

Shakspeare, 

With  such  delay 
Well  pleased,  thev  slack  their  course,  and  many  a  league. 
Cheered  with  the  gratef  J  smell,  old  Ocean  smiles. 

Milton, 

Ye  woods  and  wilds,  whose  melancholy  gloom 
Accords  with  my  soul's  sadness,  and  draws  forth 
The  ttar  of  sorrow  from  ray  bursting  heart. 
Farewell  awhile. — Home. 

The  peculiar  nature  of  the  English  language,  which 
applies  no  di.  Unctions  of  gender  to  objects  destitute  of  sex, 
makes  the  use  of  this  figure  at  once  easy  and  forcible. 
The  simple  application  of  a  personal  pronoun  implying 
sex  to  an  inanimate  object  at  opce  invests  it  with  person- 
ality. 

la  like  manner,  liberty  herself,  the  last  and  best  gift  of 


ENKRGY. 


273 


God  to  his  creatures,  must  be  taken  just  as  she  is.  You 
may  pare  her  down  into  bashful  regularity,  and  shape  her 
into  a  perfect  model  of  severe  scrupulous  law;  but  she  will 
be  liberty  no  longer. — Erskine. 

When  Natural  Religion  has  thus  viewed  both,  ask  her, 
Which  is  the  prophet  of  God?  But  her  answer  we  have 
already  had,  when  she  saw  part  of  this  scene,  through  the 
eves  of  the  centurion,  who  attended  at  the  cross.  By  him 
she  spoke,  and  said:  "Truly  this  man  was  the  Son  of  God." 
— Comparison  of  the  religion  of  Christ  and  of  Mahomet 
in  Sherlock's  Sermons. 

The  opposite  of  this  figure,  where  a  person  is  represented 
as  a  thing,  has  a  similar  energy  in  exposing  a  character  to 
scorn  and  contempt. 

How  in  the  name  of  soldiership  and  sense. 

Should  England  prosper,  when  such  things,  as  smooth 

And  tender  as  a  girl,  all  essenced  o'er 

With  odors,  and  as  profligate  as  sweet; 

Who  sell  their  laurel  for  a  myrtle  wreath. 

And  love  when  they  should  fight:  when  such  as  these 

Presume  to  lay  their  hand  upon  the  ark 

Of  her  magnificent  and  awful  cause? 

Hyperbole  is  a  figure  in  which  the  object  is  represented 
as  magnified  or  diminished  beyond  reality. 

As  vision  is  founded  on  a  change  in  the  relations  of  the 
represented  object,  and  personification  on  a  change  in  its 
nature  or  kind,  hyperbole  is  founded  on  a  change  in  the 
degree  of  some  of  its  properties  or  qualities. 

I  saw  their  chief,  tall  as  a  rock  of  ice;  his  spear^  the 
fir;  his  shield  the  rising  morn:  he  sat  on  the  shore,  like  a 
cloud  of  mist  on  the  iiill. — Ossian, 

A  lover  may  bestride  the  Gossamer, 
That  idles  in  the  wanton  summer  air. 
And  yet  not  fall— so  light  is  vanity. — Shakspeare, 
He  was  the  owner  of  a  bit  of  ground  not  larger  than  a 
Lacedemonian  letter. 


I 


274 


OBJECT  I V  K    P  HOP  IIUTIES. 


The  minds  of  the  aged  are  like  he  tombs  to  which  they 
are  approaching;  where,  though  the  brass  and  the  maib  e 
remain,  yet  the  inscriptions  are  etiaced  by  time,  and  the 
imagery  has  mouldered  away. 

^343.  Tiie  second  class  of  lepicscntative  figures 
being  founded  on  a  comparison  of  one  object  ^vith  an- 
other include  those  of  comparison  proper  and  simile  ; 
contrast,  allegory,  and  allusion. 

This  class  of  figures  differs  from  the  first  class 
that  while  the  latter  confine  the  view  to  the  object  itself  and 
only  represent  it  as  changed  in  its  relations,  nature  or 
de-ree,  those  of  the  second  class  go  out  from  the  object  Kself 
and  represent  it  only  through  the  light  of  some  other  to 
which  it  bears  some  resemblance. 

The  COMPARISON  PROPER  is  a  figure  in  which  the  pro- 
perties or  relations  of  the  object  are  represented  by  means  of 
similar  properties  or  relations  in  another  object  of  the  same 

class.  a         \    • 

The  comparison  differs  from  the  metaphor  chiefly  m  being 
more  extended.  It  is  not  essential  to  the  comparison  that 
the  words  of  comparison,  '  like/  '  as,'  ^  so/  &c.,  be  actually 
expressed;  aUhough  the  term  "metaphor/'  or  «  metaphon- 
cal  comparison,"  is  more  commonly  applied  when  those 
words  are  omitted.  The  figure  is  in  this  case  bolder  and 
makes  a  stronger  demand  on  the  imagination  cf  the  reader; 
a.  all  the  properties  of  the  representative  object  are  in  form 
attributed  to  the  other,  and  the  reader  is  left  to  distinguish 
and  select  from  among  them  such  as  may  be  appropriate. 
The  use  of  the  comparative  particles  and  words,  on  the  other 
hand,  indicate  only  a  partial  resemblance.  If  the  poet  had 
said,  « Be  not  dumb,  driven  cattle,"  the  expression,  if 
tllowcd  by  the  meter,  would  be  felt  at  once  to  be  stronger 


n 


ENERGY. 


275 


tnd  bolder  than  the  comparative  form  which  he  adepts; 
**  Be  not  like  dumb  driven  cattle." 

The  SIMILE  ditTers  only  in  form  from  the  comparison. 
The  term  'simile'  turns  the  mind  on  the  object  to  which 
the  theme  is  likened  as  the  prominent  thing.     In  the  simile, 
accordino'ly,  the  representative  object  is   presented   as  the 
leading  theme;  and  the  represented  as  the  subordinate  one. 
In  the  comparison,  on  the  other  hand,  the  represented  object 
is  made  the  leading  theme.     Thus,  a  comparison  would  be 
in  this  form ;  "As  when  the  thunder  rolls  in  peals;  the  light- 
ning glances  on  the  rocks;  spirits  ride  on  beams  of  fire;  and 
the  strength  of  the  mountain-streams  comes  running  down  the 
hills:  so  was  the  voice  of  battle."     In  the  simile,  the  repre- 
sentative object  would  be  presented  as  the  leading  theme; 
»s,  «  Thou  hast  seen  the  sun  retire  red  and  slow  behind  his 
cloud;  night  gathering  round  on  the  mountain;  while  the 
unlrequent  blast  roared  in  narrow  vales.     At  length  the  rain 
beats  hard;  and  thunder  rolls  in  peals.     Lightning  glances 
on  the  rocks,  spirits  ride  on  beams  of  fire,  and  the  strength 
of  the  mountain-streams  comes  roaring  down  the  hills.  Such 
was  the  noise  of  battle."     Differing  thus  slightly,  the  simile 
and  comparison  are  very  commonly  confounded. 

Contrast  is  a  figur.  in  which  the  object  is  represented 
by  another  similar  object,  but  the  attention  is  turned  on  the 
opposition  or  points  of  diff^erence  between  them. 

Contrast  thus  involves  comparison,  since  there  can  be  no 
contrast  oetween  things  enti.ely  dissimilar;  it  differs  from 
comparison  in  this,  that  while  it  assumes  the  resemblance  it 
goes  farther  and  dwells  on  the  points  of  opposition  or  dis- 
similarity. 

The  destruction  of  a  dangerous  error  which  had  widely 
extended  its  dominion  is  a  glo.ious  victory  w^n  by  the 
friends  of   truth,  armed  onl^   with   the  weapons  ot    iaith. 


276 


OJBJKCTiVB    PllOPKKTlES. 


Such  a  conqueror  no  streams  of  blood  accompany :  in  hi* 
train  are  no  desolated  fields. 

The  ALLEGORY  is  but  an  extended  simile,  in  which  the 
comparative  words  are  omitted. 

The  allegory,  the  parable,  and  the  fable  belong  to  the 
same  class  of  figurative  forms  of  representation;  and  their 
distinctions  are  not  ely  observed  in  the  common  use  of 
language.  It  is  suflScient  to  remark  of  them  that  the  fable 
is  distinguished  from  the  proper  allegory  by  being  shorter 
and  also  by  being  narrative  or  historical,  It  is  founded  on 
an  imaginary  event;  whereas  an  allegory  may  be  descrip- 
tive. The  term  parable  is  more  strictly  confined  to  alle- 
gories either  narrative  or  descriptive,  of  a  moral  or  religious 
character,  which  are,  moreover,  founded  on  real  scenes  or 
events  J  as  those  of  Christ. 

One  of  the  finest  examples  of  the  allegory  is  in  the  eighti- 
eth Psalm,  from  tl»e  eighth  verse  to  the  sixteenth  inclusive. 

The  Pilgrim's  Progress  by  Bunyan  is  another  fine  exem- 
plification of  the  extended  allegory. 

The  ALLiT&iON  is  a  species  of  comparison  in  wiiieh,  while 
the  comparative  words  are  omitted,  the  represented  object  is 
still  made  the  leading  theme;  and  the  comparison  is  with  a 
real  object  or  event. 

By  this  last  cliaracteristic  it  is  distinguished  from  th» 
allegory,  in  which,  as  in  the  simile,  the  representative  ob- 
ject is  the  leading  theme.  It  differs  from  ©ne  class  of  met- 
aphors only  in  being  raore  extended.  Indeed,  this  class  of 
metaphors,  referring  to  a  real  sc? ne  or  event,  are  denomina- 
ted metaphorical  allusions  or  allusive  nietaphors;  as 
**  The  self-seeking  will  betray  his  friend  or  brother  with  a 
Judas-kiss.'' 

When  it  is  said  that  the  allusion  always  respects  a  real 
•wnt  or  object,  it  is  not  meant  to  exclude  such  imaginarji 


ENKKUY.  277 

objects  or  events  as  have  been  actually  described  or  narrated 
in  works  of  fiction. 

$  344.  The  third  class  of  representative  figuves,  or 
those  ill  which  the  mental  condition  of  the  speaker  is 
represented  as  different  from  the  reality,  may  be  dis- 
tributed into  three  species,  according  a?  they  respect 
the  personality  of  the  speaker ;  that  of  the  hearer ;  oi 
the  nature  of  the  thought  or  feeling  represented  itself. 

The  first  species  is  PROSOPOPOEIA,  in  which  the  speaker 
personates  another;  as  where  Milo  is  introduced  by  Cicero  as 
speaking   through   his  lips;  "Attend,   I   pray,  hearken,  O 
citizens,  I  have  killed  Publius  Clodius  by  this  sword  and  by 
this  right  hand,  1  have  kept  off  his  rage  from  yoiir  necks, 
which  no  laws,  no  courts  of  judicature,  could  restrain,"  &c. 
It  is  sometimes  joined  with  personification,  in  which  case 
inanimate  or  irrational  things  are  represented  as  speaking  ; 
as  in  Cicero^s  first  oration  against  Cataline,  the  republic  is 
made  the  speaker  and  addresses  Cicero  himself.     "  What 
are  you  doing?     Are  you  suffering  him  whom  you  have 
found  to  be  an  enemy,  who  you  see  is  to  be  at  the  head  of 
the  war,  whom  you  perceive  our  enemies  wait  for  in  then 
camp  as  their  general,  who  has  been  the  contriver  of  this 
wickedness,  the  chief  of  the  conspiracy,  the  exciter  of  slaves 
and  profligate  citizens,  to  leave  the  city  which  is  rather  to 
bring  him  in  than  let  him  out?     Will  you  not  order  him  to 
be  imprisoned,  cond.:.  ned,  and  executed?"  &c. 

Sometimes  this  figure  takes  the  form  of  a  colloquy  or  ft 
dialogue.     This  was  the  ancient  sermocinntio. 

How  does  God  reveal  himself  in  nature?      She  answers 
thee  with  loud  voices,  with  a  thousand  tongues:  God  is  love. 

The  second  species  is  apostrophe,  in  which  the  speaker, 
instead  of  addressing  directly  his  proper  hearer,  turns  him- 

24 


•m 


278 


OBJEC 

person 


IVE    PROPERTIES. 


other 


or 


thing,  either  really  or  only  in 


self  to  some 
imagination  present. 

This  figure  abounds  in  the  orations  of  Cicero.      Ihus  in 
his  first  against  Catuline:  "  I  desire,  senators,  to  be  merciful, 
but  not  to  appear  negligent  in  so  great  dangers  of  the  St«te; 
thouoh  at  present  I  cannot  but  condemn  myself  of  remiss- 
nuss!    There  is  a  camp  formed  in  Italy  at  the  entrance  of 
Etruria,  against  the  State;  our  enemies  increase  daily;  but 
we  see  the  commander  of  the  camp  and  general  of  the  ene- 
mies within  our  walls,  in  the  very  senate,  contriving  some 
intestine  ruin    to  the  State.     If,   now,  Cataline,  I  should 
order  you  to  be  seized  and  put  to  death,"  &c. 

Again,  in  his  defense  of  Milo,  he  turns  to  his  brother 
Quintus  and  addresses  him  as  if  present:  "And  how  shall  I 
answer  it  to  you,  my  brother  Quintus,  the  partner  ot  my 
misfortunes,  who  art  now  absent?" 

The  third  species  of  figures  of  this  class  which  respect  a 
change  in  the  represented  conception  of  the  object  by  the 
speaker  from  the  reality,  includes  iromj,  doubt,  and  znterro^ 
gation. 

Irony  is  a  figure  in  which  the  speaker  represents  his 
thought  in  a  form  that  properly  expresses  the  directly  oppch- 
site  of  his  opinion.  It  is  employed  mostly  for  purposes  of 
playfulness  or  scorn  and  contempt. 

Silence  at  length  the  gay  Antinous  broke. 
Constrained  a  smile,  and  thus  ambiguous  spoke; 
What  god  to  you,  untutored  youth,  affords 
This  headlong  torrent  of  amazing  words! 

May  Jove  delay  thy  reign,  and  cumber  late 
So  bright  a  c-enius  with  the  cares  of  state! 

^        ^  ')dyssey,  I.  490. 

'  But,  Mr.  Speaker,  we  have  a  right  to  tax  America.'  Oh, 
inestimable  right!  Oh,  wonderful,  transcendent  right!  the 
assertion  of  which  has  cost  this  country  thirteen  provinces. 


ENERGY. 


279 


fix  islands,  one  hundred  thousand  lir/es,  and  seventy 
millions  of  money.  Oh,  invaluable  right!  fur  the  sake  of 
which  we  have  saciiliced  our  rank  among  nations,  our 
importance  abroad,  and  our  happiness  at  home! 

Doubt,  also  called  (v^oria  and  dubitatio,  is  i  figure  in 
■which  the  speaker  represents  himself  as  in  doubt  for  the 
purpose  of  winning  a  stronger  coniideace  from  the  hearers. 
Thus,  Cicero  in  his  oration  for  Cluentius: 

I  know  not  which  way  to  turn  myself.  Shall  I  deny  the 
scandal  thrown  upon  him  of  bribing  the  judges?  Can  I  say, 
tlie  people  were  not  told  of  it?    &c. 

Interrogation  is  a  figure  in  which  a  strong  and  con- 
fident assertion  is  represented  under  the  form   of  an  inquiry 

or  deuumd. 

Have  any  alarms  been  occasioned  by  the  emancipation 
of  our  Catholic  brethren?  Has  the, bigoted  malignity  of 
any  individuals  been  crushed?  or  has  the  stability  of  the 
goVernment  or  that  of  the  country  been  weakened?  or  is  one 
million  of  subjects  stronger  than  four  millions? 

§  315.  Those  forms  of  figurative  energy  which  de- 
peml  on  the  structure  of  the  sentence  respect  either 
the  order  and  corniection  of  the  parts ;  or  the  com- 
pleteness and  length  of  the  entire  sentence. 

They  include  inversion  and  anacoluthon ;  aposi- 
pesis  and  senientiousness, 

$  340.  Inversion  is  a  figure  in  which  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  parts  of  a  sentence  is  changed  from  the 
usual  syntactical  order. 

The  general  principle  of  energy  in  regard  to  the  arrange- 
meat  or  the  parts  of  a  sentence  is,  that  the  more  important 
words  or  phrases  be  placed  first  or  last,  and  the  less  impor- 
tant be  thrown  into  the  middle.  This  principle,  indeed, 
applies  also  to  the  arrangement  of  words  in  the  members. 


m 


m 


280 


OBJECTIVE    PROPERTIES. 


Words  of  transition,  of  every  class,  as  <  however/  '  besides, 
'  therefore/  and  the  like,  should  in  accordance  with  this 
principle  be  thrown,  whenever  practicable,  into  the  middle  of 
the  sentence ;-should  be,  in  other  words,  postrosttive  ^nA 
not  prepositive.  So,  likewise,  merely  explanatory  members 
or  phrases  should  be  neither  the  first  nor  the  last  on  the 
mind,  unless  they  are  to  be  made  emphatic. 

But  the  unbending  syntax  of  our  language  allows  but 
little  liberty  to  the  orator  in  this  respect.  It  is  here  incom- 
parably inferior  to  the  ancient  languages  which,  by  the  mul- 
tiplicity  of  their  inflections,  admitted  readily  any  desn-ed 
arrangement  of  the  words  and  phrases.  It  is,  however,  even 
here  superior  to  some  other  modern  languages;  and  without 
offending  against  its  essential  principles,  the  orator  may 
:mpart  much  energy  t  >  discourse  by  authorized  deviations 
from  the  ordinary  structure  of  the  sentence. 

As  the  subject  is  naturally  the  first  thing  to  be  presented 
to  the  mind,  our  language  requires  that  ordinarily  it  be 
placed  first  in  the  sentence.  But  sometimes  it  is  the  predi- 
cate in  whole  or  in  part,  or  the  mode  of  the  copula,  upon 
which  the  orator  wishes  the  attention  more  particularly  to 
be  fixed.  To  accomplish  this  inversion,  in  the  first  place, 
we  have  certain  words  and  forms  of  expression  which  are 
used  for  this  purpose  alone  and  are  in  themselves  utterly 
destitute  of  meaning;  such  as,  « there,"  «  there  is,"  « it  is. 

There  is  a  feeling  of  the  sublime  in  contemplating  the 
shock  of  armies,  just  as  there  is  in  contemplating  the 
devouring  energy  of  a  tempest;  and  this  so  elevates  and 
engrosses\he  whole  man,  that  his  eye  is  blind  to  the  tears  o 
befeaved  parents,  and  his  ear  is  deaf  to  the  Pteous  "man  o 
the  dying,  and  the  shriek  of  their  desolatedtamihes.  There 
isa  gracefulness  in  the  picture  of  a  youthful  warrior  burn- 
ing for  distinction  on  the  field,  &c. 

U  gives  me  pleasure  to  advance  a  farther  testimony  in 


ENERGY. 


281 


belialf  of  that  government  with  which  it  has  pleased  God, 
who  appointed  to  all  men  the  bounds  of  their  habitation,  to 
bless  that  portion  of  the  globe  that  we  occupy. 

It  is  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ,  which  has  poured  the 
light  of  day  into  all  the  intricacies  ol"  this  contemplation. 

Again,  when  the  predicate  is  separated  in  part  or  in  whole 
from  the  copula  the  predicate  or  a  part  of  it  may  be  placed 
first. 

Great  is  Diana  of  the  Ephesians. 

His  faithful  dogs  howl  on  his  hills,  and  his  boars  which 
he  used  to  pursue,  rejoice.  Fallen  is  the  arm  of  battle;  the 
mighty  among  the  valiants  is  low ! 

Farther,  the  qualifying  parts  of  a  sentence,  when  they  are 
to  be  made  emphatic,  may  be  placed  first  without  violatir.g 
the  principles  of  the  language. 

So  deeply  were  they  impressed  with  the  sense  of  their 
wrono-s,  that  they  would  not  even  accept  of  life  from  their 
oppressors. 

Once  more,  in  the  objective  relation  of  the  sentence,  our 
language  ordinarily  requires  that  the  object  follow  its  verb. 
For  the  sake  of  energy,  however,  inversion  is  often  allow- 
able here. 

All  that  I  have  and  all  that  I  am  and  all  that  I  hope  in 
this  life,  1  am  now  ready  here  to  stake  upon  it. 

§  347.  Anacolutiion  is  a  figuie  in  which,  for  the 
sake  of  energy,  the  orator  drops  the  grammatical  form 
with  which  he  had  commenced  and  adopts  another 
not  syntactically  reconcilable  with  it. 

This  figure,  common  thu  classical  writings,  is  rarely 
allowable  in  our  language.  Only  strong  passion  can  war- 
rant it,  as  it  seems  to  imply  such  a  degree  of  emotion  in  the 
ipeakei  as  to  destroy  the  recollection  of  grammatical  forms 

24* 


282 


oiuf:ctive  puoperties. 


§  318.  Aposiopksis  is  a  figure  in  which  the  feel- 
ings of  the  speiik..'i-  induce  him  to  inUurupt  the  expies- 
aion  and  leave  the  sentence  incomplete. 

This  iigiwe,  by  its  direct  address  to  the  imagination  of 
the  hearer,  is  often  one  of  great  power. 

Demosthenes  employs  it  freciucntly  with  much  effect;  as 
in  his  address  to  Aeschines:  O  thou-by  what  name  can  I 
properly  call  thee? 

Must  I  remember?  why  she  would  hang  on  him 
As  if  increase  of  appetite  had  grown 
By  what  it  fed  on;  yet,  within  a  month- 
Let  me  not  think— Frailty  thy  name  is  woman. 

$  319.  Sententiousness  is  a  deviation  from  that 
continuousness  in  style  which  thought  naturally  re- 
quires,  §  295.  It  characterises  that  discourse  which  is 
broken  up  into  short  and  abrupt  sentences. 

The  women,  in  iheir  turn,  learned  to  be  more  vain,  more 
gav,  and  more  alluring.  They  grew  studious  to  please  and 
to  conquer.  They  lost  somewhat  of  the  intrepidity  and 
firmness  which  before  were  characteristic  of  tbem.  Ihey 
were  to  a.Tect  a  delicacy  and  a  weakness,,  fheir  education 
wa.^  to  be  an  object  of  greater  attention  and  care.  A  hner 
seiise  of  (liit>  was  to  arise. 

After  all,  what  is  high  birth?  Does  jt  j^stow  a  nature 
dilTerent  from  that  of  the  rest  of  mankind?  Has  not  the 
man  of  ancient  line,  human  blood  in  his  veins?  Does  he 
not  experience  hunger  and  thirst? 

Besides,  Sir,  we  have  no  election.  If  we  were  basa 
enough  to  desire  it,  it  is  now  too  late  to  retire  from  the  con- 
test There  is  no  retreat  but  in  submission  and  slavery. 
Ou;  chains  are  forged.  Their  clanking  may  be  heard  on 
the  plains  of  Boston.  The  war  is  inevitable,  and  let  it  come. 
I  repeat  it.  Sir,  let  it  come. 

§  350.  There  are  certain  general  principles  which 


K.Nl'.IK^Y. 


283 


apply  to  the  uso  of  figures  aiid  which  :,houl(l  bo  care- 
fully observed. 

Th'i  first  respects  the  occasion  of  usin^^  thciu ;  it  re- 
quiies  that  they  never  be  introduced  unless  there  be  fit 
and  suitable  ground  for  them  in  the  feelings  of  the 
speaker. 

So  far  as  figures  appear  to  be  sought  alter,  they  indicate 
labor  and  affectation  which  are  in  themselves  most  hostile 
to  energy.  The  proper  rule  to  be  observed  in  reference  to 
pro.i  i.M,.  in  the  use  of  figures,  is  that,  while  familiarity  be 
obtained  by  previous  study  with  the  various  kinds  of  figures, 
such  only  be  actually  employed  in  discourse  as  spring  up 
naturally  at  the  time. 

§  351.  The  second  i)rinciple  respects  the  number 
of  figures ;  it  fi)rbids  a  too  frecinent  repetition  of  them, 
and^  especially,  the  frequent  repetition  of  the  same 
figure. 

§  352.  The  third  principle  respects  the  relation  to 
be   observed  to  the   ordinary  essential    iiroperties  of 
style  ;  it  reipiires  that  figurative  expressions  should  be 
in  conformity  with  the  necessury  principles  that  govern 
those  properties. 

Figures  are  deviations  from  the  ordinary  forms  of  speech, 
bul  aui  never  be  properly  violations  of  its  essential  proper- 
ties.    In  the  use  of  figures,  accordingly,  the  principles  of 
etymol,  gv,  svntax  and  lexicography,  for  example,    should 
never  be"violalecl.     No  real  energy  is  gained  to  discourse  by 
the  introduction  of  a  figure  which  is  unintelligible  or  obscure. 
§  353.  The  fourth  principle  respects  the  quality  of 
the  fi<nu"e  itself;  it  requires  that  it  be  ever  congruous 
and  Complete  in  itself;  and  at  the  same  time  be  ex- 


284 


OBJKCTIVK    FROPERTIKS. 


tended  no  farther  than  is  necessary  for  distinct  appre. 
1  tension. 

The  Hability  to  an  ofTense  against  this  principle  is  great- 
est in  the  case'  of  the  representative  ligin es.  Whenever  these 
are  presented  confusedly  and  with  incongruous  features  they 
oflend  rather  than  impress.  So,  also,  while  ollenKive 
abruptness  and  incompleteness  are  to  be  avoidtd,  the  liguie 
should  never  be  extended  farther  than  the  imagination  of  the 
hearer  needs  in  order  to  grasp  it  intelligibly  and  fully.  In 
the  simile  or  comparison,  for  instance,  to  carry  out  the 
figure  into  every  possible  resemblance  weakens  as  well  as 
disgusts,  and  is  fatal  to  ent  gy. 

The    following    extracts    exemplify    violations    of    this 

principle: 

I  am  convinced  that  the  method  of  teaching  which 
approaches  most  nearly  to  the  method  of  investigation,  is 
incH.n.parablv  the  best,  since  not  content  with  serving  up  a 
few  barren  and  lifeless  truths,  it  leads  to  the  stalk  on  which 
they  grow. — Burke. 

There  is  not  a  single  view  of  human  nature  \\h\rU  is  not 
sufficient  to  extinguish  the  seeds  of  pride.— J  /'//.v.r.. 

Men  must  acquire  a  very  peculiar  and  strong  habit  of 
turning  their  eye  inwards,  in  order  to  explore  the  interior 
rcLnons  ai>d  recesses  of  the  mind,  the  hollow  caverns  ol  deep 
thoi-.L^J.t  <!-  private  seats  of  fancy,  and  the  wastes  and  wil- 
dein(  (  ^is  v,-tli  as  the  more  fruitful  and  cultivated  tracts, 
of  thi-  o  •s.iure  dimixte.—iihaftsbvry. 

The-e  are  the  first-fruits  of  my  unHedged  eloquence,  of 
which  thou  hast  oft  complained  that  it  was  buried  in  the 

■hade. 

Upon  thy  mirror,  earth's  majestic  view. 
To  paint  thy  presence,  and  to  feel  it  too. 


ELEGANCE. 


285 


CHAPTER  IV. 


18 


uot 


of 


OP    ELKQANCE. 

§  354.  Ei.EOANCE  is  that  property  of  style  by  vir- 
tue of  which  the  discourse  is  commended  to  the  taste 
of  the  hearer. 

$  355.  Tlie  elements  of  elegance  in  style  are  pro- 
priety ;  expression  of  right  sentiment ;  and  grace. 

This  analysis  of  elegance  is  founded  on  that  of  the  consti- 
tuents of  aesthetic  beauty.  (Introduction,  chap.  III.  §  21.) 
Tiie  first  element  of  taste,  if  it  be  not  rather  an  indispens- 
able condition,  is  propriety  or  fitness.  We  require,  for 
instance,  as  essential  to  all  beauty  that  Ihere  be  fitness  in 
respect  to  the  end  or  design  in  reference  to  which  the  work 
ol  art  is  constructed.  The  perception  of  this  fitness  gives  ua 
pleasure  of  itself  with  no  further  clement  of  beauty.  Thus 
the  adaptation  of  the  various  parts  of  a  steam  engine  to  its 
designed  end — the  production  of  motion;  of  the  different 
members  of  the  animal  body  to  their  respective  uses,  and 
of  all  of  them  together  to  the  final  end  of  the  animal  econ- 
onjy ;  of  a  chain  of  reasoning  or  a  series  of  complicated 
arguments  to  the  proof  of  a  proposition,  gives  us  a  higher  or 
lower  degree  of  aesthetic  pleasure. 

We  are  likewise  pleased  with  the  expression  of  a  correct 
sentiment.  We  admire  the  exhibition  of  devoted  friendship 
and  attachment  in  the  episode  of  Nisus  and  Euryalus  in  the 
^neid;  of  generous  and  lofty  patriotism  in  the  well-known 
adjuration  and  other  parts  of  the  oration  of  Demosthenes  on 
the  crown. 

W^e  are  touclu-d.  also,  by  the  exhibition  of  grace  in  the 


I     ! 


itHl) 


286  OBJECTIVF.    FUOl-KlfllKa. 

construction,  of  a..,  eviaciag  a  n.asl.rly  skill  ..nd  powor  in 

"inT'lLe  ele„,ents  „>ay  be  resolved  all  the  .unstituenU 
of  beauty  in  style. 

8  356.  PuoPiuETY  in  style  leqiiires 

1  A  just  expression  of  all  the  various  properties  of 
style  that  have  been  before  enumerated,  and  a  sym- 
metry  and  congruity  as  respects  the  parts  of  a  dis- 

coui'se;  ,  •       ^^  fV.^ 

2  An  adaptation  of  the  verbal  expre.ssion  to  the 
character  of  the  thenie  as  sacred,  important,  serious, 

or  otUcvwise  ;  and  . 

3  The  observance  of  a  due  decorum  as  determined 
by  the  character  of  the  speaker,  of  the  hearers,  and 
of  the  occasion  and  chcumstances  of  speakmg. 

An  elen.ent  of  style  so  extended  although  so  indispen- 
sable  and  so  difficult  of  attainment,  its  very  nature  torbuls 
the  attempt  to  describe  or  exemplify  more  fully.  It  is  one 
which,  as  Cicero  remarks,  it  is  i.npossible  to  commumcate 
by  art.*  One  or  two  general  observations  arc  all  that  it  is 
deemed  useful  to  add  on  this  subject.  .      ^    ,   ,  , 

The  first  is,  that  a  strict  regard  to  propriety  is  absolutely 
indispensable  to  success  in  oratory,  so  far  as  success  depends 
on  the  hearer^s  taste.  And  his  gratif.cation  here  may  have 
a  determining  power  over  his  attention,  his  perception  and 
judgment.  Indeed,  Cicero  does  not  hesitate  to  say  tluU  pr.. 
nriety  is  the  essential  element  of  oratorical  power.  Is  erit 
eloquens,  qui  ad  id  quodcumque  decebit,  potciit  accommo- 
dare  orationem."  . 

'^Caput  .ss'e  artis,  dccore ;  quod  tameTi^n  id  ease,  quod  wA\ 
arte  non  possit.— De  Oral.  I.  29. 


ELEGANCE. 


287 


The  nuture  of  oratorical  propriety,  further,  mav  perhaps 
best  be  understi.od  from  the  observation  that  it  is  merely  the 
giving   to  discourse  ".hat  bek)iigs   to  it.     The  demands  of 
propriety  are  fully  met  when  what  belongs  tu  the  nature  of 
style  as  the  expression  of  thought^  to  the  nature  of  the  sub- 
ject, the  character  of  the  speaker  and  the  hearer,  the  occasion 
and  circumstances  of  speaking,  is  correctly  observed  in  the 
discourse. 

$  357.   The  expression  of  right  sentiment 
as  an  element  of  beauty  in  style,  involves  the  use  of 
such  representative  imagery  in  the  exhibition  of  thought 
as  is  founded  on  high  and  pure  associations. 

This  is  a  positive  element  of  beauty,  and  is  of  a  higher 
order  than  the  first  named — propriety.     It  is  by  this  element 
that  oratory  more  closely  links  itself  to  the  peculiar  beauty 
of  ideal  art  which  lies  in  (he  representation  of  sentiment. 
It  is,  indeed,  only  indirectly  and  incidentally  that  sentiment 
can  be  expressed  in  oratorical  style;  while  in  art  it  may  con- 
stitute the  final  end  of  the  work.     Still  sentiment  appears  in 
style.     It  gives  to  style  a  peculiar  color  and  hue.     When 
discourse  proceeds  from  a  mind  imbued  with  elevated  sen- 
timents and  familiarized  with  pure  and  noble  associations, 
style,  as  the  body  of  the  thought,  puts  on  a  peculiar  fresh- 
ness and  beauty  which  commends  it  to  every  refined  taste. 
The  character  thus  reveals  itself  in  style.     It  was  on  good 
grounds  that  the  ancients  urged  so  earnestly  the  importance 
of  character  to  success  in  oratory ;  for,  as  Quintilian  reasons, 
"  discourse  reveals  character  and  discloses  the  secret  disposi- 
tion and  temper;  and  not  without  reason  did  the  Greeks 
teach  that  as  a  man  lived  so  he  would  speak." — "  Proferr 
•aim  mores  plerumque  oratio,  et  animi  secreta  detegit.   Neo 


288 


OBJECTIVE    PUOPEllTlEfl. 


Sine  causa  Graeci   prodiderunt,  ut    vivat,  quemque  etiam 

5  358.  Grace  is  tl.at  element  of  beauty  which 
smli-s  from  ease  of  execution  implying  not  only  a 
:&  knowledge  of  the  pnnciples  of  style  but  also 
powei-  and  skill  in  the  actual  expicssion. 

Grace  ultimately  is  founded  on  motion  or  power  .n 
sensible  operation,  §  21.  By  »"/»'3'/"*'"Sy  ''  » 
applied  to  moral  and  abstract  expresa.ons  of  power,  as  weU 
a!  also,  to  forms  which  are  motionless  but  yet  surges  pre- 
vious  exertion  of  power  in  determm.ng  them  We  speak 
thus  of  the  grace  of  a  statue  which  represents  the  easy  atlt- 
tude  of  perfect  vigor  and  suppleness  of  hmb. 
"      op  .      ,  i„  in  ,!,»  .asv  flow  of  diction  which 

Grace  appears  in  style  in  the  easj  uow  oi 

attends  po  v  r  of  expression.    Abruptness  and  sen.entiousnes, 
Istyle  imply,  indeed.power.    So  far  as  abrupt  and  brol<e 
however,  discourse   implies  a   broken  or  impeded  energy 
The  roar  and  foim  of  a  mountain  torrent  dashing  again  t 
n>cks  and  trees  display  force;  it  is  '-«'''<'""'=;''='''!'';: 
impeded  and  out-mastered.     The  easy  gentle  flow  o.  tie 
ma  estic  river,  that  quietly  takes  into  its  current  and  bears 
along  without  a  ripple  every  obstacle  that  comes  in  its  way, 
is  a  more  perfect  emblem  of  unimpeded  power  and  in  its 
„,otion  we  see  grace  exemplified.     Mere  impulsive,  jetting 
oratory  is  so  far  deficient  in  grace,  as  it  in.phes  .mped...d 
atid  resisted  power. 

$  359.  Ill  the  acquisition  of  this  property  of  style, 
elegance  or  heauty,  three  means  are  essential ; 

First,  mental  culture ;  ,.••!„ 

Secondly,  study  of  art,  including  both  its  prmciples 
and  its  exemplifications  in  models ;  and 

Thirdly,  exercise  with  judicious  criticisms. 


."■  '\ 


El-ROANCE. 


289 


$  360.  Mental  culture  is  essential  both  for  the  pur- 
pose of  acquiring  those  moral  habits  and  associations 
which  are  necessary  for  the  expression  of  right  senti- 
ment ;  as  well  as  also  for  the  attainment  of  that  power 
which  is  the  foundation  and  source  of  grace. 

§  361.  The  study  of  art  is  directly  beneficial  in 
creating  that  sense  of  propriety  which  is  the  conditiou 
of  all  beauty ;  as  well  as  also  in  forming  the  senti- 
ments and  in  developing  power  of  expression. 

Every  species  of  art  may  be  turned  to  useful  account  in 
the  formation  of  oratorical  taste.  While  in  no  one  are  all 
the  forms  of  beauty  perfectly  revealed,  there  is  none,  per- 
haps, which  is  not  distinguished  above  every  other  in  iU 
adaptedness  to  develop  some  one  or  another  particular  ele- 

meat  of  beauty. 

The  term  'art'  is  here  employed  in  its  most  comprehensive 
import-  and  is  intended  to  include  every  exertion  of  power 
under  the  control  of  taste.     Nature  itself  in  this  view  is  but 
the  workmanship  of  a  most  perfect  artist,  and  is  hence  a 
most  appropriate  model  for  the  study  of  oratory  in  all  its  va- 
rious forms  of  skill  and  beauty.     Manners  and  morals,  also, 
lie  within  the  domain  of  art;  and  for  many  reasons  demand 
the  close  and  constant  study  of  the  orator,  not  for  the  mere 
information  of  tlie  understanding  only,  but  as  furmshingthe 
means  of  developing  and  forming  the  taste. 

$  362.  Exercise  in  oratory  of  itself  develops  and 
strengthens  power  of  execution;  and,  combined  with 
judicious  criticism,  aids  in  the  cultivation  of  all  the 
elements  of  oratorical  taste. 

la   applying  criticism   to   oratorxal   compositions,  the 
caution   given  in  §  18  in  regard  to  the  time  of  criticism 

25 


trained  aud  developed  to  tl  e  po  _^_^j^^^^  .^ 

to  be  preferred  to  any  im            ^  i„  th, 

eo„,posing,  to  eomrnunK  .    to  .t^le  P    P_^^^.^^_  ,„  .„g 

,vords  of  Dr.  Whately       ^^^^[  „  ,,i„u  about  it 

the  act  of  composition,  t    study      »  ^^^            ,^  their 

,t  all.     Let  an  author^'u  X   '-  ^^^^  ^_^  ___^^  .„^,„. 

beauties  of  ='>■'«  ^f^/^"  J,,;,,,,  himself  with  elegance; 
.ibly  catch  the  habit  o  -P-^^;^  ;,.„„,  ,,e  may  revise 
and  when  he  has  complCed  ""^  """P"       i;,„k„„M  and 

it,  and  -»ti-»'y  =^>'"  Jj;   cSe    nd  obscure;  but  let 
harsh,  as  well  as  those  that  a^J^  .^_^^^.^^  ^^.  ^,^,^. 


APPENDIX. 


THEMES  FOR  EXERCISES  IN  INVENTION 


THEMES   IN   NARRATIVE   DISCOURSE. 

1.  Simple  Nanation, 

The  crusades. 

The  discovery  of  America. 

The  conquest  of  England  by  the  Normans. 

Magna  Chart  a,  ^        . 

The  early  population  of  the  earth  by  successive  migration. 

The  dismemberment  of  Poland. 

The  expulsion  of  Kings  from  Rome. 

The  exodus  of  the  Israelites  from  Egypt. 

The  origin  of  the  Grecian  game. 

The  Persian  invasions  of  Greece. 

The  rise  of  tragedy. 

The  plebeian  triumph  in  Rome.  ^ 

The  origin  and  spread  of  British  conquest,  in  India. 

The  American  Revolution. 

The  battle  of  Waterloo. 

The  conquests  of  Alexander  the  Great     ^ 

The  history  of  Republics  in  F..uth  America. 


292 


At'PKNDlX. 


The  Peloponnesian  War. 

The  history  of  modern  commerce. 

The  destruction  of  Carthage, 

Gothic  conquests  in  Italy. 

The  subjection  of  Greece  by  the  RomiBf. 

The  history  of  Jerusalem. 

The  French  revolution  in  1830. 

The  first  Triumvirate  in  Rome. 

The  revival  of  legal  studies. 

The  Quadruple  Alliance  of  1814. 

The  battle  of  Lexington. 

The  Swiss  Confederacy. 

The  rise  of  Monachism. 

The  division  of  the  Roman  empire. 

The  rise  of  the  Turks. 

The  Saxon  descendents  in  England. 

The  expulsion  of  the  Moors  from  Spain. 

The  introduction  of  Christianity  into  EngUnd;  the  Oil. 
man  tribes;  China;  the  South  Sea  Islands. 
The  Danish  invasions  of  England. 
The  rise  of  the  Feudal  System. 
The  Sicilian  Vespers. 
The  Hanseatic  League. 
The  Lutheran  Reformation. 
The  war  of  the  Roses  in  England. 
The  Spanish  Inquisition. 

The  Slave  Trade. 

The  imprisonment  and  execution  of  Mary  Sta««. 

The  settlement  of  New  England. 

The  English  Commonwealth. 

The  rise  of  Mohammedaniam. 

The  ministry  of  the  elder  Pitt  ••."".. 


293 

THEMES. 

The  independeiicc  of  Modern  Greece. 
The  American  Constitution. 
The  battle  of  the  Nile.  ,  ^   ,     , 

The  Union  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland. 
The  Reformation  in  England. 

;':  llrlS:  Solo„,  De.„sthene.  M..^^r^ 
olt   r.,pW,  The—,    C^  C.^  — 
c  •  :„    rirnro    Mahomet,  Charlemagne,  AHrea  ii 
Scp.o,  Cice'"-;  j.„,  „f  Chatham,  Hampden, 

Belisarius,  Tycho  Brahe,  the  i.  pavette.LouU 

Michael  Angelo,  Col->bu.,  Wash.ngto  .  La  F    e 
XIV.,  Cowper    Edmund  Bv^e,Ha.d  ^^^  ^^^^_ 

Be„iamln  F-anVUn  «^- ^;,,„,,  v.,  F.edenc. 

tatiu^  Loyola,  Francis  Xavie,-,  John  Jay. 
°  2.    ^t5/^'-rtC*  Narratioji. 

The  progress  of 'civilisation  in  the  world. 
The  rise  of  popery. 
The  ditlusion  of  knowledge. 
The  spread  of  Christianity. 
The  rise  of  free  cities. 
The  development  of  taste. 
The  growth  of  genius. 
The  progress  of  free  principles. 

'1  he  decline  of  the  poetical  spirit.  ru.mual 

The  lapse  of  virtuous  principle  when  deprived  of  its  usual 

"Cransition  of  superstition  to  infidelity. 

,,  Narration. itk..luMtion  of  causal  r^^^^^^^^^ 
The   influence  of  the   Reformation  on  the  intellect 

Europe. 

^  25* 


1^  a 


294 


API'HNDIX. 


The  prohable  influence  of  the  United   States  on  the  des- 

tinies  of  the  world.  ^^^  ^^^ 

The  influence  of  the  spirit  of  the  present  a^e 

kiny  of  the  world. 

The  influence  of  the  press. 

The  influence  of  the  American  Revolution. 

The  influence  of  the  national  spirit  on  security. 

The  public  games  of  Greece.  ^ 

The  influence  of  the  Reformation  on  avil  liberty. 

The  causes  of  the  melancholy  of  genius. 

The  influence  of  periods  of  great  excitement  on  literature. 

The  influence  of  the  Feudal  system. 

The  influence  of  the  Crusades. 

The  influence  of  chivalry. 

The  influence  of  commerce. 

The  influence  of  climate  ou  rialional  character. 

T        tudy  of  History  as  a  n.cans  of  inteUectual  growth 

The  influence  of  seclusion  in  cultivating  the  mind  and 

'"tL  influence  of  christian  missions  on  the  literature  of  the 

ge. 

The  indulgence  of  a  spirit  of  censure. 
Singleness  of  purpose  in  its  bearing  on  succes.. 
Imitation  as  leading  to  servility. 

THEMES    IN    DESCRIPTION. 

1.  Description  proper. 
The  Geographical  Fca-are.  of  Switzerland,  Italy.  Tavtary 
Or!'  Brltl,  Greece,  The  Onitod  States,  Dentnark,  Egypt, 

'l:lt  and  .ode™  Athens,  I^on,e,  Th^es    I^hyloa. 
P„is,  London,  St.  Petersburg,  Edinburgh,  Washtngton. 


THEMES. 


295 


The  ».le  of  Chan,o«ni,Mont  Blano,  The  vale  of  Temp., 

„f  Niagara,  of  ^^-^■■^^^l'^::::,'':^-,,  .,  Ko... 
T\w.  Parthenon  ot  Athens,  »t.  i  eier  s  i^i*         „       ,       , 
St  Paursit  London, King's  Cl.apel Cambridge, Stra^burgh 

Cathedral. 

The  cedar  of  Lebanon. 

AutUTun, 

The  planetary  system. 

2.  Abstract  Description. 

1>]je  German  Confederation. 

The  Hanseatic  League. 

The  EnelisU  ConstituUon.  -  *      j«» 

The  Constitution  of  the  United  state,  of  Am«i«. 

The  Swiss  Confederacy. 

The  British  Farliauient. 

Republican  B-orae. 

Roman  I'atvioli™.  ^  Washington, 

The    character   ot    Napo   »  ^P  ^^     ^^^^^^^  ^^^^ 

Oliver  Crom«ell   La  Faje Ue   L  ,  ^^^^^  ^.^  ^^ 

Jay,  Socrates,   Cicero,  Porapey, 

"^^  a— of  the  American  Indian. 
The  man  of  independent  thought. 
The  true  statesman. 
The  enthusiasm  of  genius. 
Moral  courage. 
Character  of  the  Modern  Greeks. 

V  Mtavacter  of  the  Scriptures. 

The  literary  chaiaati  ui 

■  •  f  ^Jr  Walter  Scott. 

The  wnting.s  of  ^k  ^^  '^'^ 


!i' 


996 


APPENDIX. 


The  Lake  poets. 

Cheerfulness. 

The  beauty  cf  a  forgiving  spirit 

True  Greatness. 

Genius. 

Gmuine  politeness. 

Intltpeiidence  of  character. 

The  pleasure  derived  from  the  contemplation  of  the  part. 

THEMRS   IN    ANALYSIS. 

The  benefits  of  a  refirted  taste. 

The  excellence  of  ingenuousness. 

The  evils  of  Party  Spirit. 

The  benefits  of  Party  Spirit.  ^ 

Impedlu^ents  to  high  literary    exceUence  ,n  th.  Umted 

States. 

The  benefits  of  foreif,^  travel. 

The  uses  of  the  study  of  History. 

The  benefits  of  national  adversity. 

The  uses  of  knowledge. 

The  motives  at  the  present  day  to  aim  at  high  mental 

superiority. 

The  obligations  of  a  country  to  her  literary  men. 

Decision  of  character. 

The  means  of  perpetuating  the  bles,ing»  of  .  free  gov- 

ernment. 

The  political  prospects  of  Europe 

The  eccentricities  of  genius. 

Liabilities  of  the  student  at  the  present  day.  _ 

The  benefits  resulting  from  a  high  culture  of  the  social 

affections. 

Tho  social  tendencies,  in  the  Umted  States. 


THEME  3. 


29 


Abuses  of  the  imagination. 

Duties  resulting  from  the  right  of  suffrage. 

Uses  of  biography. 

Uses  of  history. 

The  duties  of  the  American  Scholar. 

Constituents  of  real  greatness. 

Benefits  of  the  fine  arts. 

The  duties  of  literary  men  to  their  country. 

lustruction  to  be  derived  from  the  history  of  our  revolu- 

Hon. 

Moral  defects  of  P:nglish  Poetry.  ^ 

Advantages  arising  from  a  love  of  literature  in  early  life. 
Abuses  of  the  spirit  of  honor  in  this  country. 

THEMES   IN    EXEMPLIFICATION. 

The  power  of  habit. 

The  corrupting  eflects  of  slavery. 

The  order  of  nature. 

The  power  of  conscience. 

The  love  of  system. 

Nothing  beneath  the  care  of  Providence. 

The  power  of  resolution. 

The  power  of  association. 

The  ingratitude  of  Republics. 

PractiaU  character  of  the  age. 

Undue  i.aueuce  of  foreign  opinion  in  this  country. 


THEMES    IN    COMPARISON    AND   CONTRAST. 
i,lluer.ce  of  the  study  of  nature  and  of  art  on  char- 


I  he 
At-te'-. 

Tiie  ct)mpa 
tioual  character 


Hiive  etTectsof  climate  and   desctnt  on  na. 


298 


APfRNDIX. 


The  influence  of  agriculture,  commerce,  and  manufao- 
fuies  on  national  character. 

Principles,  not  in  en. 

A  Government  of  lavv. 

Reward  and  punishment  as  incentives  to  exertion. 

Acting-  from  princij)le,  rather  than  froin  impulse. 

Comparative  dignity  of  the  warrior  and  statesman. 

Literature  as  alVected  by  different  lorms  of  government, 

Readinsi^  and  observation  in  the  study  of  human  nature. 

The  comparative  virtue  of  the  enlighfencd  and  ignorant 
classes. 

The  influence  of  architectin-e,  painfing,  poetry,  and  mu- 
gic  in  providing  and  perpetuating  religious  impressiinis. 

The  iniluence  of  the  ancient  and  modern  languages  in 
the  culture  of  the  taste. 

The  letters  of  Lady  iMontague,  Horace  Walpole,  and 
Couper. 

The  Mvlholojiies  of  Greece  and  Rome. 

The  military  character  of  Napoleon  and  Wellington. 

Personal  memoirs  and  formal  histories  as  illustrative  of 
national  history  and  cliaracter. 

The  power  of  conscience  and  human  lavv. 

The  comparative  effects  of  literutuie  and  science  on  civi- 
lization. 

The  influence  of  moral  and  physical  causes  on  cliaracter. 

Skepticism  and  love  of  truth  as  indications  of  mental 
vigor. 

Hume  and  Lingard  as  Historians. 

The  poet  of  an  early  and  of  a  civilized  age. 

Imitation  and  mi   licry. 

Domestic  Life  among  the  ancient  Greeks  and  Romans, 
and  in  this  country. 


THEMES. 


299 


Ages  of  action  and  reflection. 

Tlie  dilTcrent  styles  of  eloquence  prevailing  ia  different 
agsii  and  countries. 

Modern  and  unciejit  Greece. 
Policy  and  principle. 


THKIMKS    IN    CONFIRMATION. 

Commerce  favorable  to  national  character. 

Civilization  progressive. 

Intcrnufioual  copy  right. 

The  necessity  of  mainlainiiig  national  credit. 

Dramatic  Entertainments  hurtful  to  sound  morals. 

Universal  SulTrage. 

Civilization  dependent  on  Christianity. 

Novel  Reading. 

Every  man  the  architect  of  his  own  fortune. 

The  dopetidence  of  commerce  on  credit. 

The  desirableness  of  cherishing  a  military  spirit  in  this 

country. 

The  unlimited  right  of  society  to  control  individual  pur- 
suits. 

The  right  of  government  to  enforce  the  sacrifice  of  pri- 
vate interest  to  public  good. 

The  equal  distribution  of  happiness. 
The  rewards  of  virtue  sure. 

General  dilTiision  of  knowledge  advantageous  to  the  higher 
classes  of  literature. 

The  necessity  of  relaxation. 

No  man  without  influence. 

Men  resi)0ii5ible  for  their  opinions. 

The  j)rogres3  of  right  opinions  slowr. 

Utility  ol   national  celebrations. 


300 


APPENDIX. 


Precarioiisness  of  popular  favor. 

The  original  unity  of  the  human  race. 

The  desirableness  of  short  terms  of  political  office. 

The  expediency  of  making  authorship  a  profession. 

The  natural  proof  of  the  soul's  immortality. 

Original  diversity  of  talents  in  man. 

THEMES    IN    EXCITATION. 

The  death  of  Socrates. 

The  reign  of  terror  in  France. 

Gen.  Washington  resigning  his  sword  to  Coi^reak 

The  plague  in  London. 

The  extinction  of  the  Indians. 

The  Slave  trade. 

The  field  of  battle. 

THEMES    IN    PERSUASION. 

The  love  of  truth  as  a  practical  principle. 

Aiming  at  perfection  in  every  thing. 

Culture  of  the  taste. 

Education  of  the  senses. 

Firmness  in  duty. 

Contentment  with  the  allotment*  of  Provideoo*. 

Fortitude  under  reverses. 

Habits  of  industry. 

The  love  of  nature. 

Thorougliness  in  intellectual  altainments. 


MT!>CELLANEOUS   THEMES, 

Love  of  retirement. 

Study  of  the  Mathematics. 

Tendency  of  an  excessive  veneration  of  antiqnitf 


i 


THEMES. 


301 


National  monuments. 
Influence  of  a  free  press  on  Government, 
Conversation  as  a  means  of  intellectual  improvemenu 
The  influence  of  the  discovery  of  America  on  tho  V6tA 
lect  of  Europe. 

Influence  of  constitution  on  literary  pursuits. 

Tendency  to  extremes  at  the  present  day. 

Early  impressions. 

Knowledge  is  power. 

The  choice  of  friends. 

Persecutions  for  opinion. 

Influence  of  mental  culture  on  moral  feelin|;. 

Providential  evils,  real  blessings. 

The  limits  to  intellectual  acquisitions. 

Influence  of  literature  on  national  refinement. 

The  value  of  an  unspotted  reputation. 

A  superHcial  attention  to  a  great  variety  of  purniitf. 

The  true  character  revealed  in  the  conduct. 

Influences  of  circumstances  on  character. 

Self  government. 

The  union  of  discipline  with  native  genitta. 

Indulgence  of  a  spirit  of  censure. 

The  power  of  custom. 

The  influence  of  associates  on  character. 

The  abuse  of  free  discussion. 

The   eff'ects  of  irregularity  in  rank  and  condition  in  i 

republic. 

The  influence  of  great  emergencies  en  the  formation  of 

character. 

Delicacy  of  feeling. 
Conflict  of  opinion. 
Sanguine  temperament. 

26 


I 


302 


APPKNDIX. 


Influence  of  promiscuous  reading. 
Public  education. 

Prevailing  deference  to  public  opinion. 
Anonymous  literature. 
National  recollections. 
Eagerness  for  politics  in  this  country. 
Activity  as  the  great  source  of  happiness. 
The  authority  of  great  names. 
The  dread  of  singularity. 
Models  in  literature. 

Inordinate    love    of  wealth   as    a   peculiar   weaknew  in 
A.merican  character. 
The  mental  discipline  required  in  this  country. 
Virtue  the  true  guide  to  lasting  favor. 
Visionary  anticipations  of  the  future. 
Influence  of  free  institutions  on  the  habits  of  social  life 
Love  of  excitement. 

The  character  of  the  early  settlers  of  a  country. 
Influence  of  literature  on  the  stability  of  government 
The  evils  of  sudden  revolutions  in  government. 
Self  educated  men. 

Neglect  of  literature  by  professional  men. 
The  desire  of  esteem. 
High  aims  and  expectations. 
Self-confidence. 
Early  trials  in  life. 

Free  intercourse  with  the  world  in  early  life. 
The  influence  of  great  national  wealth  onmonjff. 
Use  of  ridicule. 
Intellectual  Independence. 
Genius  has  its  weaknesses. 
Sacrifice  for  principle. 


THEMES. 


303 


Power  of  tnilh  and  llie  certainty  of  its  final  triumph. 
Influence  of  the  study  of  poetry  on  the  intellectual  and 
moral  character. 

Knowledge  of  human  nature. 

Influence  of  periodical  literature. 

Errors  of  Genius  without  moral  principle. 

The  power  of  local  association. 

Integrity  in  politics. 

National  benefactors. 

Carrying  early  warmth  of  feeling  into  life. 

Tendency  of  great  scenes  and  objects  to  elevate  the  char* 

acler. 

Judicious  culture  of  the  imagination  as  a  means  of  en- 
joyment and  usefulness. 
Habits  of  reverie. 
Security  of  free  institutions. 
Erroneous  estimates  of  greatness. 
Influence  of  strained  and  excessive  feeling  on  literatuTOi 
Literary  courage. 

Prooress  of  our  country  in  national  iniprovemer. 

Power  of  opinion  in  a  free  government. 

Accomplishments. 

Destiny  of  the  English  Langusge. 

Independence  of  Genius. 

Memorials  of  great  actions. 

Influence  of  a  spuit  of  distrust 

Influence  of  Christianity  on  the  spirit  of  poetry. 

Generosity  of  sentiment. 

Ambition  as  a  motive  to  literary  exertion. 

Military  greatness  as  an  object  of  admiration. 

Abuses  of  free  discussion  at  the  present  day. 

Cherishing  high  sense  of  national  character. 


m   m. 


304 


APPENDIX. 


Literary  enterprise. 

The  abus(5  of  power  in  republics. 

Spirit  of  revolutions  in  Europe. 

Study  of  the  human  heart. 

Influence  of  mental  culture  or  dignity  of  cbaracter. 

Super fi rial  reading. 

Encouragement  to  philanthropic  effort  derived  from  the 

present  state  of  the  world. 

National  amusements. 

Desire  of  change. 

Culture  of  eloquence  in  the  United  States. 

Influence  of  great  scenes  and  objects  on  the  formation  ef 
character. 

The  trials  of  genius. 

Advantages  of  a  national  literature. 

Influence  of  moral  feeling  on  a  refined  taste. 

Tiie  comparative  value  of  contemporary   and   subsequent 
narrations  of  historical  events. 

The  moral  influence  of  the  Christian  Sabbath. 

Active  profession  in  its  influence  on  the  effects  of  a  liter- 
ary man. 

The  influence  of  foreign  languages  on  the  originality  of  s 

nation's  literature. 

The  standard  of  taste. 

The  idea  of  the  beautiful  as  developed  in  Grecian  litera- 
ture and  art. 

The  elTects  of  increased  facilities  of  intercourse  between 
the  Eastern  and  Western  continents  on  the  Uuited  States. 

The  mo-al  tendency  of  the  nutu.al  sciences. 

The  use  of  a  diversity  of  languages. 

The  use  of  ballads  and  songs  in  influencing  a  nation's 
cluuracter. 


APPENDIX. 


305 


Elevation  of  rank  as  affecting  turpitude  of  character. 
The  dependence  of  the  mind  on  the  state  of  the  body. 
The  influence  of  the  fine  arts  upon  religion. 
The  influence  of  Christianity  in  the  moral  and  intellectual 
revival  of  Europe  after  the  dark  ages. 

Agitation  as  a  means  of  effecting  reform. 
The  influence  of  Christianity  on  domestic  habits. 
Severity  of  manners  in  a  republic. 
Originality  of  thought,  as  ali'ected  by    the  maturity  of 
literature  and  science. 

The  prospects  of  genuine  liberty  in  Europe. 

The  study  of  the  exact  sciences. 

The  reciprocal  influence  of  literature  and  morals. 

The  permanence  of  our  free  institutions. 

The  decline  of  poetry. 

The  influence  of  philanthropy  on  Chiistianity. 

Early  preju  lices. 

The  influence  of  imagination  on  happineM. 

The  heroic  character. 

Pride  of  ancestry. 

Reason  and  resolutioa. 


